


The Daughter of Rivendell

by Scribe32oz



Series: The Fourth Age [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Fourth Age, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-05-02 23:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 85,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14555433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribe32oz/pseuds/Scribe32oz
Summary: Believing Middle Earth to be safe following the end of the War of the Ring, Aragorn and Arwen begin their rule as King and Queen of the Reunified Lands, unaware that an evil far more ancient than Sauron is stirring in the dark. When Arwen learn that the Enemy's plans involve her unborn child, she and Eowyn set out on a quest of their own to save the future.





	1. The Enemy in the Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Note: I have used some elements of the film version, in particular Arwen’s replacement of Glorfindel’s ride to Rivendell since I feel it adds more to her character’s development.

It was meant to be a time of peace.

The War of the Ring had come and gone and the realms of Arnor and Gondor had been united under the leadership of Isildur’s heir, Aragorn Elessar, once called Strider who was of the Fellowship of the Ring. The initial years following the end of Sauron's evil reign and the destruction of his kingdom in Mordor had been years fraught with toil. It might seem to those watching that the vanquishing of so evil a foe would signal the dawn of a more civilized age. Unfortunately, they would have been disappointed. The Fourth Age began as all things borne of great conflict often do, with unsteady feet, searching for its place in the new world, through the ashes of the old.

As the halflings learnt upon their return to their beloved Shire that even with the death of Sauron, his minions still continued to invoke his evil across the land. Saruman the White, escaping the siege of Isengard, turned his vengeful eye toward Hobbiton. In his hatred, he was determined to bring ruin to the homecoming of the ring bearer and those with him who had brought Sauron to his end. Fortunately, he died at the blade of his own minion Wormtongue without causing irreparable harm to the Shire. However he was not alone. In the War of the Ring, Saruman had gathered many allies to align themselves with Sauron and created an army that would have consumed all of Middle Earth. Whilst many of these had been vanquished at the Battle of Pelennor, some had survived the carnage to escape into crevices and the dark places of the world, to hide until such time when they would be called upon to serve evil once more.

The time that came after the War of the Ring was not only a time of peace but also of restoration. Much that had been destroyed was once again rebuilt. The King, who remembered the promise made to his fallen comrade, Boromir, to never let the White City falter, restored Minas Tirith which had suffered greatly in the siege of Gondor. In Isengard, Gandalf the Grey attempted to rebuild the splendor of his ancient order to what it was before Saruman had defiled it with his treachery.. In Moria, Gimli led the Dwarves against the Orcs who had slain Balin and retook the grand city. Legolas returned to Mirkwood, taking his place as a Prince of the Wood and giving aid to the lands whose forests had been ravaged by war.

In the meantime, the Enemy lay in the shadows, watching.

He waited in silence, allowing the victors to savor their prize and their peace, feeding their complacency in the belief that the danger of the dark times had indeed passed. Meanwhile, he planned a secret restoration of his own. Sauron had placed too much of himself in the One Ring and that had been his undoing. Such power could not be contained in a vassal of gold, fashioned from any mountain. It was a living, breathing thing. If the enemy had learnt one thing with perfect understanding from Sauron's utter defeat, it was never to move too quickly.

The One Ring was too well known, too remembered, for it to slip past the forces that had stood against Sauron. All it had taken to bring the dark lord undone was one determined hobbit, a creature so insignificant to imagine it capable of defeating one of the Maiar was unimaginable and yet that was precisely what had happened.  
No, he was not so foolish as to place his power into a ring. He had been waiting from ancient times, a creature weakened by a blow that should have killed him, recovering in secret and allowing those who might remember him to believe that he was dead. In truth, much of what he was, was no longer and his anonymity ensured his continued survival. When Sauron had first come to power, he had considered offering his services to the dark lord but chose to wait until Sauron had become master of all before making his presence known. However, Sauron had not prevailed and upon Isildur’s fateful blow and the loss of the ring, he had chosen to withdraw into shadows and wait for another opportunity.

Even with the dawning of the Third Age and the great peace that had settled over the land, he knew that Sauron’s evil was not ended. The One Ring had survived and while it remained in the world of Middle Earth, its power was still potent. It was only a matter of time before it made its presence known again and as history tumbled along in its own clumsy way, Sauron was finally defeated and vanquished forever. The Third Age slipped into the past and now there was a new hope stretching itself across all of Middle Earth and in its splendor, it made those who could be a threat to the Enemy weak and so the time had come at last to act.

His ring would not be made of gold; nor would it be subject to the whim of its bearer. No, his "ring" would be one of flesh, a person sculpted, as one would a statue; molded to fit his will. Saruman had attempted to build the superior soldier in the Uruk Hai. The Enemy's ambitions would have made the wizard's jaw fall open in astonished wonder.  
The Enemy had no need of soldiers when what he desired to build was a god encased in the body of a king.

And he found many that would help him. The Orcs and the Uruk Hai, who found themselves without a master following the demise of Sauron, were being hunted into extinction by the new king. When the Enemy told them of his plan, they savored the delicious irony of it all and were eager to help him carry it out in any way possible. There was little they could do for the moment except wait.. For the plan required one last, culminating event for him to be able to set it in motion. He ordered the Orcs and the remaining Uruk Hai to the secret city, aware that only in its confines would they know any peace from the hunters who sought to end their races once and for all.

The secret city like the Enemy himself had been forgotten in time and even the ones who considered themselves aged and knowledgeable in the ways of the ancient, no longer remembered the places he knew. He journeyed with his small army of Orcs and Uruk Hai to the hidden fortress deep within the earth. Far away from all the knowing of all creatures above, he kept watch on the outside world through one of the palantirs that he had acquired over the years. He watched over the Kings of Gondor, Mirkwood and all the lands of Middle Earth, waiting for the time when they would begin the course for which he had planned for so long.

And then it came, as anticipated, for the lives of mortal men were terribly predictable for all their short-lived passion. It had come from Gondor, also as expected and it brought a cry of satisfaction running through the secret city. He, himself , rejoiced most of all when the City of Minas Tirith made a most joyful announcement. The White City's elation almost rivaled that of his own minions though their reasons for celebration could not have been more different opposite. The Enemy smiled in pleasure for the culmination of so many years of waiting and calculating had finally reached apogee and it was time to begin.

To the King of Gondor, a child was to be born.

And to the Enemy in the darkness of the secret city, evil was about to be unleashed on Middle Earth again.


	2. Celebration

 

When the news had come, Arwen had scarcely believed it.

Her suspicions, had abound for the past few weeks, especially when her courses had not come as regularly expected. Since then, she had held her breath in anticipation of the possibility; at the same time driving poor Aragorn to distraction because he could not fathom what was at the heart of her suddenly moody temperament. She had not wished to tell him of her suspicions because if he were to know, he would most likely be in a worse state than she. What was it with men of courage and strength, who could ride forth and slay a thousand Orcs and Uruk Hai with nary a flinch but went into complete and utter ruins of nuisance when confronted with the possibility of becoming a father?

Arwen suspected that not even the Valar could answer that question and chose not to torment her King with the possibility that he might have an heir before she knew for certain, herself. Thus she left her beloved Estel to his devices which were many of late. As King of the newly unified lands of Arnor and Gondor, he had yet to consolidate his power amongst the scattered ruins of Sauron's war. Those who thought that being a King was all pomp and splendor would recoil in horror if they knew what arduous work it could truly be. More was the time when Arwen would step into the King’s court and see the glimmer in his eyes that she knew was his longing for simpler days, when he was still Strider – Ranger to the lands of Eridor.

Yet he was a good man, this one she loved beyond reason or thought. He would carry the burden because his people needed him, because he had made a promise to a friend long ago, to never let the White City falter and because he alone had the courage to do what must be done, even at the cost to his own happiness. And Arwen would be at his side forever, to carry that burden with him, to fill his life, so overburdened with heavy responsibilities, with the simple pleasures such as the news she could now tell him with complete certainty to be the truth.

There are things that a woman knows without the aid of any physician or healer to tell her otherwise. Although Arwen had been hesitant to believe what she knew in her heart, for fear of being disappointed, inwardly she could not deny that she was certain that she carried his child within her. The waiting, however, for proof to be provided that this hope was more than just her intuition was maddening. She stormed about the palace, curt in her words though not unkind, as she endured a secret torment that Aragorn could not fathom but chose wisely not to provoke by asking questions.

Fortunately, there was no longer any doubt. The royal physician had confirmed it and as she placed her hand on her still flat belly, she could feel instinctively that the child slumbering within the womb was all too real. She drifted, if it was possible for a flesh and blood mortal to drift, through the halls of the palace. She warmed the hearts of everyone who came across her and caught the radiant smile on her face. As she made her way to her King, she chuckled inwardly thinking to herself. How grateful they must be for her good mood, considering her temperament of late. She resolved herself to make it up to those who had borne the brunt of her temperament. After all, being a queen did not excuse bad behavior in any shape or form.

Her father had taught her that.

Thinking of Elrond made Arwen's smile widen because he would be so thrilled to hear of this. Despite his sometimes dignified manner and his exceptional keeping with all things proper, Arwen knew her father would like nothing better than to be the dotting grandfather who was allowed to spoil his grandson shameless. He had claimed, on numerous occasions, that to be the right of all grandfathers. She would send word to him after she left Aragorn and perhaps to Galadriel as well, for her grandmother would want to hear the news almost as much as her father -- although Galadriel had her own ways of learning things without being told.

Arwen found Aragorn within the conference room, where he had spent much of his days lately, attempting to portion out men to the lands that were still being plagued by remnants of Sauron’s army. The Uruk Hai, without masters, were even more dangerous for their violence had no purpose now and they seemed to lay waste to anyone unfortunate enough to be in their path of destruction. As she entered, Arwen found that her king was already in counsel with Faramir, Lord of Ithilien and Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood. They were pouring over the maps that showed which lands were under threat. The three men immediately raised their eyes to her as she entered the room. Arwen hid her smile at the anxious expression that crossed Aragorn's face. She well knew that he was wondering what he had done now, that she should seek him out while he was engaged in such an important discussion.

"Your highness," Faramir bowed his head politely.

"Faramir," she smiled with equal regard and turned her eyes towards the Prince of Mirkwood as she continued her advance into the room.

There was no such formality required between Arwen and Legolas who were childhood friends. The Prince merely smiled warmly at her as she neared her husband.

"Lady," he remarked softly.

Arwen rolled her eyes at that childhood greeting, wondering how it was that Legolas whom she had learnt to climb trees with and had provided with his first kiss at the ripe age of seven, could still call her that? She had forgotten the number of times she had requested he call her by her name and narrowed her eyes at him in slight annoyance, especially at his amusement in seeing her vexed by his continued use of that title.

"Arwen, is something wrong?" Aragorn asked gingerly for his wife was easier to provoke these days than a cave troll with an elf on his back. 

"Nothing my love," Arwen smiled at him and disarmed his anxiety a little. "I would just like a moment alone if my lords do not mind?" She glanced at the two men in the room.

"Of course," Faramir said graciously and glanced at Aragorn for the king’s leave to depart.

"I will send for you when we are done," Aragorn replied, wondering what was important enough for Arwen to interrupt him while he was in conference.

The two lords nodded in understanding and quickly departed, leaving the royal couple to their own for a time.

"If this is about where I left my boots again, I swear that affairs of state occupied my mind and I forgot…" Aragorn started to say before Arwen silenced him with her finger against his lip.

"No my love," she beamed at him happily, "I come here on an entirely new matter, however, now that you have made mention of it, is it so hard to put them away?"

  
"You are teasing me," he gave her a look, a brow cocked over one eye in playful accusation.

"Yes," she laughed. "I am."

  
Sliding his arm around her waist, he pulled her to him and kissed her gently on the lips, glad to see that she was in a better mood then she had been of late. He wondered what it was that bothered her so much but was glad that it seemed to be a thing of the past. When they parted, he stared for a time into her blue eyes and felt himself falling in love with her all over again. She had that effect on him and he knew that the man he was today owed no small debt to her. If he was great, it was because loving her had made him so.

"And what can the King do for you today?" He asked.

"I came to apologize for how I have been these past few weeks," Arwen said first and foremost. "I have been very temperamental."

"Why?" He asked grateful that at last she was talking to him about this. They had always shared everything and the reason for her foul mood had prodded at his worst fears. "I was starting to fear that you might have regretted giving up your life in Imladris for me."

Arwen’s jaw dropped slightly at the suggestion.

"Fool," she frowned and swatted him gently on the side of the head for even entertaining such a suggestion. "You men can be so frightfully wrong at times."

"I warn you lady," he joked. "Striking the King is a grave offense."

"I will take my chances," she retorted. "I will tell you this once more for if I have to do it again, I will call down all the powers at my disposal to show you my displeasure, I love you and always will. Being here with you is all I will ever want and I regret nothing."

Aragorn shrugged. She had proven her love for him on more occasions than he could count. And he had faith in her. But, he supposed, the deep love he felt for her in turn, would always manifest itself in that slight doubt that she would always be there; that he would never lose her, "All right, I am wrong in this, but you were terribly difficult."

"I have reason," she said dryly, disappointed that the romantic scene she had envisioned about this moment had not come to be. But then, what in marriage was always as expected? "I had cause to suspect something which could not be confirmed until today and I fear the waiting was a little more than my nerves could endure."

"Suspect what?" The Ranger in him immediately jumped to the fore. "Did something happen? Are you alright?"

"I am fine," she stilled him again her finger. "I am with child."

There was an instant where she thought the news was not what he wished to hear. But then her fears were dispelled, for within his eyes, a great light flickered into being and soon encompassed his entire face with a brilliant and happy grin.

"A child!" He exclaimed with the eagerness of a boy given a wondrous gift. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she nodded with relief as well as joy at his reaction to her news. "I had suspected for a few weeks, that is why I was seemed so out of sorts. I am sorry that I vexed you so but I wanted to be certain before I told you."

"And you are now?" He stared at her and then at her stomach where his child, no,  _their_  child grew under the skin.

"Yes, Nicos confirmed it for me today." She replied laughing. "We are going to have a baby in the spring."

"Oh Undómiel!" He swept her up in his arm, twirling her around in an uncharacteristic show of exhilaration. "I love you and I love my son."

"Your son?" She looked at him with raised brow. "Are you so sure its going to be a boy? It could be a girl."

"If it is a girl," Aragorn replied quickly, "I wish only that she have your eyes. I do not care if we have a boy or a girl, Undómiel. I will love you both. You have already made me happier than I ever thought possible but now, knowing that we have created new life together, there are no words to describe how my heart beats at this moment."

"Oh Estel," she whispered, her eyes glisten with tears from the heartfelt emotion in his voice and the sheer happiness in his face. She rested her head against his chest and took comfort from the sound of his heart beating so close to her ear as she held him in her embrace. "We are going to have a baby! Keeping this to myself has been so hard, I've wanted to shout it out from the roof tops ever since I suspected I might be with child. I am so happy I no longer have to keep this from you!"

"I wish you had told me," he said with a sigh. "You should not have to keep such a thing to yourself. It’s no wonder you were so disagreeable."

"I did not want to plant false hopes, my love," she explained. "You have so much to worry your mind already, I did not wish to see you disappointed if I was wrong."

"Nothing that you do could ever disappoint me Undómiel," Aragorn stared into her eyes and wanted her to see that it was the truth. Still, he could not deny that he was delighted that they were going to have a child and he truly meant it when he said that he cared not if it were a boy or a girl, for he would love either equally. "However, now that we know for sure, I feel as you do. I want everyone to know!"

"Everyone?" She gave him a look wondering what devilry was he conjuring in his mind.

"Yes," he grinned. "I think it is time that the King and Queen of Gondor hold court with their friends again. What say we have a little party and we can make the announcement to the whole city?"

Arwen thought of her father and Galadriel again, not to mention the little halflings, and knew that she would dearly love to see them all and to have them share in hers and Aragorn 's happiness. "I think that would be most acceptable my Lord," she embraced him again.

"Well run along and arrange it," he replied mischievously.

"This was your idea!" She cried out with mock anger. "How is it that the duty falls to me?"

"Well I am the king, I have affairs of state to manage….." he muttered feebly

"Really?" Arwen looked at him skeptically, her hands on her hips as she pulled away from him, her mind whirling already with the plans for the upcoming celebration. "I will do your bidding this once my king," she teased. "But only because it suits me."

"Why thank you my queen," he returned with a hint of sarcasm as she sauntered towards the door and felt his soul sigh in gratitude that such beauty was his to love and that she loved him back. When he had first laid eyes upon her, he never thought such a magnificent vision of beauty could be as equally beautiful in her heart as well as her appearance. He was only too happy to learn otherwise.

"Undómiel," he called as he saw her about to leave the room.

"Yes Estel?" She cast those magnificent eyes back at him with a quizzical expression.

"I love you," he said softly.

Her face broke into a radiant smile and she left with her melodic voice lilting in his ears, her words warming him in the wake of her departure.

_"Lith  eithel nîn meleth" _

As well my love.

* * *

Once it had been a treacherous thing to leave the Shire for parts unknown but with the end of Sauron and the installation of the new king, roads were built and travelers journeying from place to place were assured of their safety from Orcs and other similar misfortunes. Thus news of the celebration reached Hobbiton in far more speed that would have been possible in the days of old when a rider from Gondor, drew strange and curious looks from the folk as he rode through the Shire. However, such visitors were no longer as unexpected as they once were and most who saw the rider knew that his destination was undoubtedly Bag End where Frodo Baggins was in residence following his return to the Shire from his adventures beyond.

Although Frodo had not fully recovered his injuries at the hands of the Nazgul he was well enough to receive the rider with adequate hospitality and furnish the man from Gondor with a warm meal before seeing him off once more. Upon his departure, Frodo sought out Samwise Gangee, his dearest friend in the world who was out tending the gardens of Bag End with usual care. On this occasion, Sam was busy attempting to salvage a rose bush that had seemed to have come down with some malaise, which left its leaves, yellowed and brittle. Sam had made it his mission to ensure the plant’s survival although Frodo believed this may be a battle already lost but then Sam could not be faulted for his stubbornness because it was the quality that made him some a loyal friend and ally.

"Sam," Frodo called out on approach and saw Sam lifting his head out of the bush to regard his employer and friend.

"Were you needing something Mr. Frodo?" Sam stood up, dusting the dirt from his hands as he went to meet Frodo part way across the garden.

"Sam," Frodo stared at him. "How long have we known each other?"

"Forever Mr. Frodo," Sam stared at him as if he were daft for asking such an obvious question.

"Then why can’t you just call me Frodo?" The master of Bag End asked with exasperation.

"It wouldn’t be proper that’s why," Sam said resolutely with a slight tautness to his lower lip, which indicated to Frodo that he would remain unmovable on this subject. "Now did you want me for something, or can I go back to trying to save this dying plant that’s too far gone save for my thick headedness?"

"I give up," Frodo threw his hands up in resignation.

"I would," Sam grinned mischievously before noting the envelope in his hand whose seal had been broken. The envelope was very fine and did not appear stationery that was common to the Shire for Shire folk were very sensible with parchment that was devoid of gilded gold as this one was. "What’s that?"

"This," Frodo returned to the subject at hand and explained, "is an invitation from Strider to visit Minas Tirith. It appears that he is having a party and wants the Fellowship to attend as well as Rosie if she is able."

Sam had spoken so many times about his adventures abroad that he knew Rosie would be thrilled to visit Minas Tirith and meet the King and Queen of Gondor. Besides, he thought that the travel might be good for Frodo. Despite their part in the War of the Ring, Frodo had not recovered as he should and occasionally he had strange turns. Both Sam and Rosie worried about him but neither spoke openly to anyone about his behavior for the Shire folk had little to entertain them and would spread the talk across Hobbiton if given the morsel of scandal to devour.

"I think we should go," Sam said purposefully. "It would be good to see Strider and them lot again."

"Yes it would," Frodo had to agree and felt it strange how they still called the King of Gondor and Arnor, not to mention the Chieftain of the Dúnedain, by the name of Strider. To them, he would always be that Ranger who had saved them for almost certain doom from the Ring Wraiths at the Prancing Pony. "The invitation is also for Pippin and Merry so it will be like old times, except Rosie shall come with us."

"And this time there will be no Nazgul chasing us," Sam pointed out.

"Thank goodness," Frodo replied. "I wonder what the celebration is about?" He mused.

"We’ll find out when we get to Minas Tirith Mr. Frodo. It don’t really matter much since we’re going to see our friends."

"You’re right as always Sam," Frodo smiled and decided that Sam was right. It did not matter the why. It was just good to see old friends again. "Well I suppose we better get packing and you better tell Rosie."

* * *

Gimli’s invitation did not have far too travel for at the moment, the dwarf was presently in Minas Tirith aiding with the construction of the city’s new gates to replace the ones that had been damaged during the War of the Ring. The new gates were to be constructed of mithrial and would no doubt keep the White City protected from any invaders. Since the end of the War, the feisty dwarf had found himself spending a good deal of time in Erebor where he was now known as the Lord of the Glittering Caves. Being called a Lord was still something he was unaccustomed to and was glad that when he was here in Minas Tirith, he was called Gimli instead of that exalted title.

In fact the only person who seemed to call him that here was Legolas much to Gimli’s chagrin and the dwarf was certain that the only reason the Elven prince referred to him in that way was in order to cause him upset. Legolas had acquired something of a mischievous wit, which in itself was a mystery because Gimli was of the opinion that Elves were all too somber for his liking and knew nothing about ribald, jovial humor. While Legolas did not practice the latter in great doses, he did enjoy poking fun at his comrades, particularly when they were taking themselves all too seriously.

Gimli was of the opinion that perhaps the elf needed a woman in his life.

Not that Gimli had any difficulty in that arena. The fortunes of his life and the War of the Ring had made him a most eligible bachelor and while he had yet to choose a wife, he knew that he was an attractive prospect for any female dwarf. This in itself was fortunate because dwarf women were far less in number than dwarf men and were extremely choosy in bestowing their affections. He knew that he had caught the eye of one of the women that had journeyed from the north to Erebor. While she had yet to make her feelings known to him, Gimli sensed that perhaps she would the next time he returned to the Glittering Caves.

"Lord Gimli!" The dwarf was snapped out of his thoughts by the voice of Legolas calling.

He looked up to see the handsome elf striding forward, wondering and wondered if Legolas had come to enlist his aid in hunting the Orcs that had been troubling much of the lands around Mordor following the end of Sauron. He would not have minded a little swordplay for he had become accustomed to the business of adventure since becoming one of the Fellowship. Of course, that was a terrible indulgence for any dwarf whose sole concern should be the craftsmanship of his trade but sometimes even a dwarf needed distraction.

"Must you persist in using that infernal title?" Gimli glared at him.

"Yes Lord of the Glittering Caves," Legolas said with a completely straight face. "I bring you tidings from the King."

Gimli snorted in annoyance and turned back to his plans. "You may tell his Royal Highness that the gates will be built when they are ready and not one second less and certainly not longer. If he persists in hounding me, I shall return home and he can finish it himself!"

"I will tell him that if you like," Legolas said sarcastically, " however he did not send me here to request an update regarding the progress of the gates. I offered to come here in place of one of his riders."

"Oh?" Gimli stared at him. "And what would he want of me if not to know how his gates fare?"

"To invite you to a celebration," the elf pointed out. "It appears that there is an important announcement forthcoming. The Queen has summoned her father and her grandmother to attend. The King has sent riders to Hobbiton and to Isengard to summon the rest of the fellowship."

"Ah," Gimli absorbed the news and stroked his beard in consideration of what the announcement could be. "You have any idea what this news might be?"

"Not really," Legolas confessed. "I know that Arwen required an audience alone with Aragorn while we were in discussion about the deployment of men to deal with the Orcs."

"Well that’s it then," Gimli replied with a note of triumph in his voice. "It’ll be a baby then."

"A baby!" Legolas exclaimed; wondering how the dwarf could come to such a conclusion. "What makes you say that?"

"Let us examine the evidence, a celebration involving the queen’s kin and the gathering of the fellowship, the closest thing the King would have to the same, not to mention that we are speaking about the most serious man we have ever met, choosing to celebrate some grand news? What else could it be?" He gave Legolas a look of amusement, wondering how a three thousand year old elf could be so naïve at times.

"Well I suppose he did seem rather cheery after the fact," Legolas mused. "Grinning ear to ear as a matter of fact. It was rather unnerving."

Gimli rolled his eyes once again and muttered, "Legolas, you are in sore need of female company."

* * *

"It is beginning," Gandalf the White, sometimes known as Mithandir of the Maiar, spoke to Galadriel as they sat by the lake Lórellin in Caras Galadhon discussing matters they had hoped would come to the fore later rather than sooner.

"Yes," Galadriel nodded sadly, having seen the portents of doom in her fabled Mirror. Much of what she had seen had shaken her even though she did not speak out loud of her fears. "I had hoped it would not be this soon but alas, it appears that it is time for Arwen to embark upon her own quest."

"This is no quest," Gandalf pointed out quickly. "This is evil of the foulest kind."

"She has chosen to live a mortal life," Galadriel sighed with a heavy heart because the Evenstar was a favorite to her as she was to her father Elrond. "She must suffer the burden that comes with that choice. Even if that requires her to face a most terrible form of treachery."

"It’s nothing new," Gandalf puffed upon his pipe and found no comfort in the refinement of the weed burning within it. "The Enemy has resorted to such evil before. Because of him, Turin fell on his sword and Nienor took her life."

"What the Enemy plans to do now far outweighs the tricks he used to confuse Turin and his sister Nienor, Mithandir," Galadriel retorted grimly. Even the exquisite perfection of her ethereal features could not hide the worry in her eyes as she thought of what the Evenstar would have to face in the coming days. "If he is allowed to succeed, we will have a greater threat to contend with then even Sauron."

"I know," Gandalf nodded. "I wish this did not have to be Arwen’s burden alone. She should share it with Aragorn."

"I wish the same too," Galadriel confessed. "For he loves her more than heaven and earth combined and would allow nothing to harm her or his unborn but he is just a man and a man has fallen to the Enemy’s trickery before. The Evenstar is an elf with powers of her own, she may be able to guard against the Enemy and not be led astray by his machinations. If we were to allow her husband to know the danger, he would be determined to protect her by going himself and that is something we cannot allow."

"Perhaps we do not have the right to make that choice for them," Gandalf reminded, feeling guilty at keeping secrets from Aragorn. When he learnt the truth, not even a former Maiar like himself was willing to face the fury of his outrage at being kept in the dark, especially when the danger was to his wife and child.

"I feel as you do Mithandir," Galadriel reached for his hand to make him see that this was difficult for her too. She had no wish to use either Aragorn or Arwen carelessly but what the Enemy was purporting to do could not be allowed to succeed under any circumstances. "I love them both dearly and my heart aches in fear at the danger that the Evenstar will face but it must be done this way. If she were to fail in the undertaking, we would face a danger far worse than any we could possibly imagine. This would be worse than Sauron acquiring the One Ring Mithandir, this would be the resurrection of powers no army of men, dwarves or elves could hope to combat and those who might have the ability to stand against it retreated from this realm in this First Age."

Gandalf took a deep breath, hoping it would steady him and knew that it would not. "So is she to go alone in this peril? When we dealt with Sauron and the One Ring, Frodo had the benefit of the Fellowship? Is Arwen not allowed to have such support."

"The Evenstar will find her own way," Galadriel replied. "There are allies for her in the strangest of places and she will find them. Aragorn shall not be completely forgotten in this but it must be his queen that paves the way for him to act."

She paused a moment and then added, "the time draws near Mithandir for our departure to the Western Sea. You feel its pull as I do."

"Yes," Gandalf nodded, knowing what it was that she spoke. "I feel it."

"We must vanquish these ancient evils before we leave," she explained although her words were nothing that he did not know already. "When we sail to the Western Shores, this world will fall to the race of Men and they do not have the power to deal with such evil. The dwarves and the hobbits will fade into myth but men will remain and as hardy as they are, their race is not blessed with a long memory. Those who come after Aragorn and the Evenstar will not remember us and if they do, we will be nothing more to them then legends. If the Enemy and others like him are allowed to remain after we are gone, they will exist in a world that will have no idea how to combat them and I for one do not relish that thought that the ages that come after us will exist in shadow."

Gandalf was in complete agreement with her on this point and yet in agreeing with her, he could not help feeling as if he were abandoning Arwen to a questionable fate. It was necessary that the Evenstar carry out this quest but he could not say for certain whether or not she was strong enough to prevail.

"I guess then it is time to visit Minas Tirith," Gandalf said after a long pause. "It appears that we have a celebration to attend."

* * *

When the announcement was made at the opening of the celebration, that the Queen was with child, a rise of jubilation moved through the respective kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor like the swell of a wave coming into shore. The city of Minas Tirith had been transformed into a magical vision of lights and color for the occasion. People from all walks of life, whether or not they were lordly folk or mere commoners, turned out in their finest to enjoy the displays of jugglers, fire breathers and entertainers on the street. The city was filled with joy and everyone no one could help but enjoy the festivities on this momentous occasion. Ale and food flowed freely creating the kind of revelry not seen since the days of Isildur.

Visitors came from all corners of Middle Earth, be they men, elves or dwarves. For the inhabitants of Minas Tirith, they were also able to see for the first time, folk that they had only heard of in legend. To some, places like Rivendell and Lothlorien were a storyteller’s fanciful imaginings and not to be taken seriously as real. Thus when Lord Elrond and the Lady of the Wood made their arrival through the streets of the White City, no one was able to resist watching the procession of visitors making their way to the palace. While most were accustomed to the presence of elves, even the most jaded were feeling as if they were seeing a dream given form when Galadriel rode by in her robes of white. Their eyes remained fixed on her as if she was one of the Valar and their mouths were agape with wondrous fascination. The lady herself bore an ethereal smile as she traveled past, viewing their fascination with gentle bemusement.

The festivities continued into the night and the setting of the sun only brought forth more enchantment to the already marvelous day. As always, Gandalf the White provided spectacular amusements with his breathtaking display of fireworks, though not with the assistance of either Merry or Pippin who were warned well away from his wagon. The duo who learnt their lesson the last time, did not relish washing dishes for the whole city if they were caught indulging in mischief at the expense of the wizard's fireworks. Gasps and cries of excitement swept through the crowds as each explosion of color and fire superseded the last in the magnificent spectacle. Giant dragons trailed sparkles of glittering embers as they flew over head in the night air, followed by horses thundering across the sky and butterflies streaking past like clusters of falling stars.

The merriment was no less within the palace of the King. Old kinships were renewed with much vigor and friends, reunited, regaled each other with tales of their homeland and their adventures since parting.. Merry and Pippin found themselves relating the tale of Saruman’s mischief in the Shire to Legolas, Faramir and Eowyn while Gimli explained to Sam the tremendous undertaking that was the construction of the gates at Minas Tirith. Gandalf and Frodo sat together, discussing how the Hobbit fared now that he was home in his beloved Shire again. Gandalf had little opportunity to visit the Shire since the end of the War; his focus mostly centered on the rebuilding of the White Council in Isengard, creating a new order of wizards who would remain when he and the elves departed for the Undying Lands. The wizard regretted this, of course, because the Shire had always been one of his favorite places and Frodo one of his dearest friends.

"You have not married, Frodo," Gandalf pointed out as they took a walk along the long palace balconies. Beyond the edge, they could see the celebration in the city below them, with a myriad of lights twinkling as children with sparklers lit the streets with their play. "I thought that when you returned to the Shire you would get in the business of settling down like your friend Sam."

A small smile crossed Frodo’s features and when he raised his eyes to meet Gandalf’s the wizard noted the sadness in them. Sometimes Gandalf wondered if the quest had not ruined the idealistic, naïve hobbit he had once known and left this stranger behind that was so distant from all of them, even when he was in the same room.

"I think we both know that I will never do that," Frodo replied. "I have seen things Gandalf that have changed me forever and while I am grateful to be alive, I think that my life will never be quite what is expected of a respectable hobbit."

"You are still young, Frodo," Gandalf reminded, but his eyes said differently.

"But I feel terribly old, Gandalf," Frodo whispered, the blue moonlight showing the wizard that it was true. His spirit seemed worn somehow, aged beyond its years. Gandalf had known the One Ring had the power to sap the life of its bearer but seeing it with his own eyes was rather disarming.

"Perhaps what you need is a little adventure," Gandalf teased, knowing it was no answer but perhaps something the hobbit should give serious thought about. Frodo appeared as if he had seen the worst of life and was now done with it all together.

"Adventure?" Frodo stared at Gandalf in disbelief unable to imagine how the wizard could think that after what he had endured during the quest of the One Ring. "I think that is the last thing I need."

"I think that it is exactly what you need," Gandalf wagged a finger at him. "You need to remember what it was that made you survive the quest, the desire to return to the Shire when you feared you would not see it again."

"But I did return to the Shire and now that I have been there for some time, I do feel something of an emptiness." Frodo confessed and it did not surprise him that he would make such a revelation to Gandalf because had he told Sam, his friend would worry needlessly over his welfare. Sam was so happy to be residing with Frodo and Rosie in Bag End, that Frodo did not want him troubled for any reason.

"Things are happening Frodo," Gandalf gave himself leave to discuss some of the matters that had been troubling himself and Galadriel of late. "There are many evils other than Sauron that exist in our world and while they are not as terrible as the dark lord of Mordor, they warrant watching. In the coming days, the King of Gondor may require the aid of the Fellowship once more."

Frodo’s eyes widened. "There is nothing that Strider could ask of me that I might refuse Gandalf," he said earnestly. "If not for Strider, I would not have survived my first encounter with a Nazgul, let alone lived long enough to destroy the One Ring. What dangers do you speak of?"

"I cannot discuss it here," Gandalf replied much to Frodo’s chagrin for if there was one thing he could call a pet dislike about his old friend, it was Gandalf’s desire to talk in riddles. "It is not for you to hear until the time comes for the King to reveal it. However, it would be good if you remained in Gondor for a few days. If you must, instruct Sam to send Rosie home first but both of you should remain."

A shudder of fear moved through Frodo at the implications of Gandalf's words but he knew he would do as instructed. In the morning. For tonight was too was too joyous an occasion to spoil with thoughts of evils and dangers lurking in the dark. He would do so because the King, because Strider needed his help and Frodo owed him too much to refuse any request for aid.

"You can count on me Gandalf," Frodo said with more courage than he felt but knew he would find it within himself when it was needed.

* * *

"So tell me Arwen," Eowyn, Lady of Ithilien asked as the two walked the gardens of the palace, away from the noise of the revelry. "How does it feel to have Isildur’s newest heir growing inside you?"

Since her marriage to Prince Faramir Eowyn had spent much time in Minas Tirinth. This was largely due to the time her husband needed to spend in the realm to confer with the King regarding the threat of the Orcs. Eowyn had become a trusted friend to the terribly homesick Arwen during these first months. As two friends, they could not have been more different. While Arwen had skin that Aragorn had often described to be as smooth as cream and hair like waves of jet, the sun touched Eowyn's skin and she had freckles across her nose. Her hair was like the gold of a sandy shore and her disposition just as breezy. They both shared a liking for the absurd and as Aragorn and Faromir had often remarked (beyond the hearing of their wives for they were wise men and valued their lives), they shared the same indomitable will that was capable of bending mithril when the mood took them.

Homesickness was something that Eowyn herself could appreciate for she too felt much alone when she had left her homeland of Rohan to take her place at Faramir’s side. In their loneliness and longing for their former realms, the two ladies had bonded in close friendship and now Eowyn would often journey with Faramir whenever he visited the White City in order to visit with Arwen. This had pleased the Prince to no end for he often claimed that the worse thing about leaving his home was leaving his wife and so this arrangement suited all greatly.

"You have an odd way of putting things, Eowyn." Arwen retorted with a smile, aware that Eowyn was teasing her. The Lady of Ithilien had a strange sort of wit, not unlike that possessed by Legolas in some way and Arwen knew that much of the reason why Eowyn was so dear to her was for that very reason. "However, to answer your question, I feel well. I am told that this will change as my child grows but I suppose it is the same for all women."

"Faramir is looking at me with strange eyes," Eowyn frowned. "I think your situation has inspired his own feelings for fatherhood, not that we have failed for the lack of trying." She laughed shortly and was joined by Arwen who knew perfectly well what she meant by that.

"I think a child will only form when it is ready and there is nothing wrong with enjoying each other before a third party arrives. Elessar and I have been waiting for each other forever and it feels as if we have loved for even longer then that, so it feels right that a child should come now," Arwen replied. She smiled wistfully remembering the searing night of passion that she and her love shared the day he learnt about the baby. "You and Faramir have been together but a few years, you should not worry about children just yet and let it happen when it does. If I were you, I’d enjoy the time when it is just the two of you for once the children come, the whole world changes for both. I know it has for Elessar and I."

"That's true," Eowyn agreed. "I think it is the male imperative to have a son that makes Faramir's eyes glow so," she chuckled. "Although for my part, I see no reason why a daughter could not do as well as any son."

"Says she who fought at the Battle of Pelennor," Arwen pointed out with a raised brow. "You astound me Eowyn by your courage. I do not know if I would have had the strength to do what you did."

"Nonsense," Eowyn dismissed such talk immediately. "You have faced the Nine on your own and brought the Ring Bearer to Rivendell when his capture would have meant the end of all, I would not be so quick to discount your courage in times of difficulty."

"So I suppose this means that if we have daughters, they too will be headstrong, determined and more than capable of defending themselves?" Arwen asked.

"I prefer the word self sufficient as opposed to headstrong," Eowyn smiled, her face lighting up whenever she did.

"Self sufficient, I do believe I like the sound of that," Arwen nodded with agreement before the two women exchanged glances and burst out laughing at themselves.

Suddenly, a beam of moonlight slipped past the clouds and struck the pond in the center of the garden. The reflection of its cool waters shimmered across the grass and the shrubs and into this breathtaking beauty appeared Galadriel, her white robes cascading behind her. She paused at the edge and looked across the pool and cast her gaze upon Arwen and Eowyn, her expression somber as she beckoned them forth. Even though Galadriel did not speak, Arwen and Eowyn could hear the words that the Lady words.

_Come Evenstar, it is time to begin. _

This, Arwen heard Galadriel say inside her mind _._

Alternately, Eowyn heard Galadriel address her in the same manner although what was said to her was wholly different from what Arwen had heard.

 _Lady of Rohan, you must join us. She will have need of your friendship._ 

Neither spoke as they approached Galadriel and yet there was trepidation in both their hearts for they could feel the weight of something terrible approaching. There was a sense of ominous foreboding in both of them as they found themselves standing next to Galadriel. The Lady did not utter a word but she held in her hand a golden urn and waited until they were still and waiting for her to begin before she finally uttered a word.

"Evenstar," Galadriel said softly, her voice like a gossamer wind in Arwen’s ears. "There is something you must see, something I have a come a long way to show you."

"What is it dear Grandmother?" Arwen asked more than a little afraid. She knew what was contained in Galadriel’s urn but she feared to speak it.

"I think you know," Galadriel replied and poured the contents of the urn into the pond. The water trickled forth lightly, creating ripples on the unbroken surface that sent rings across its expanse upon contact.

"I don't know," Eowyn blurted out, feeling the same fear and reacting in the only manner in which she knew against such anxiety. "Tell me."

"All in good time," Galadriel said smoothly, accustomed to such impatience from the race of men.

Arwen swallowed thickly, looking to Eowyn and then Galadriel in anxiousness over what she would see. The Mirror showed many things; the past, the present and the future that had not taken place. It was a window into infinite possibilities and yet as Galadriel asked her to look, she felt uncommonly afraid, more than was usual for her. She was not a woman who cowered in fear at the first sign of danger. She had faced evil before and prevailed. But this thing that Galadriel would have her do frightened her in a way she could not explain and yet, she knew she could not refuse to do this.

Delaying no more, for it would only allow her fear more power over her mind, Arwen neared the edge and cast her eyes into the pool, to see what it was Galadriel needed her to witness.

At first, she saw nothing except water becoming stilled after its earlier turbulence, the ripples fading away into a smooth reflective surface. She could almost see the stars twinkling from the sky above and in the darkness of that, she drew comfort. Suddenly, one of those twinkles of light began to expand from a white pinprick of light to a raging inferno that turned the pool amber with flame. Arwen's breathe caught and she wanted to recoil but the images forming before her were was like a trap that had captured her mind and she could not resist them.

_She saw her son._

_She knew it could be no one else because he had the look of his father, her beloved Elessar, excepting perhaps that his hair was darker and his chin more set. He wore the armor of a King about to ride into battle and though she did not know him, she loved him immediately for he was beautiful in the way she could only dream. She watched him riding into the night, his banner held high with his armies behind him. But there was something strange about the soldiers, they did not appear as they should. For a brief instant of time, Arwen tried hard to discern what about them was so strange and suddenly, a flash of fire appeared in the vision, illuminating one of their faces and she understood why they had made her suspicious._

_They were Uruk Hai!_

_Her son was the leader of an army of Uruk Hai! How was this abomination possible? There was little time to question this for the image changed again and this time, it was not of a handsome king leading his troops into battle, it was the image of a madman waging war against a torn and ruined city, she knew with certainty was Rivendell. Its tall spires were ablaze, like candles burning in the night. She could not hear the screams but she could feel them and the river that ran through her beloved childhood home was thick with blood._

_And in the center of all this destruction was her son!_

_She knew without understanding how it was possible that he was bringing war to all his neighbors, not merely with the remaining elves with whom he shared his bloodline but also upon men, dwarves and any creature that might not submit to his will. Her child, the one slumbering even now in her womb as she watched this nightmare unfold was a monster! Hers and Estel's child would be an evil more terrifying than even Sauron! The horror of it was beyond her imagination. She could not believe that the Valar would allow an act of love between two parents to culminate in the birth of such a creature!_ 

"WHAT IS THIS OBSCENITY?" Arwen shouted, stepping back from the pool, horrified beyond her ability to think.

"Arwen!" Eowyn immediately came to her friend's side as Arwen sank to her knees shaking in disgust and horror at what she had witnessed.

"What has she seen?" The Lady of Rohan demanded vehemently of Galadriel as she lowered herself to the ground to help her friend.

"She has seen what could be," Galadriel spoke, her expression showing pain at having Arwen see the terrible future before her and all of Middle Earth.

"What could be?" Arwen cried out, looking up at her grandmother with tears running down her face. "You turn this happy day into a nightmare and speak in riddles? My son cannot be this creature that I have seen! I will not believe it!"

Galadriel lowered herself to the grass next to Arwen, taking her granddaughter’s hand in hers as she spoke gently, trying to explain that there was a reason for what the Mirror had revealed to her. "You must believe it Evenstar. You must believe because it will come to pass unless  _[i]you[i]_  prevent it."

"I?" Arwen stammered, her mind reeling still from the images. "I do not understand!"

"There is an evil afoot, an ancient one that we have ignored too long for we had preoccupied ourselves with the threat of Sauron and his One Ring," Galadriel explained. "For many years, the Enemy has been watching and waiting and with the conception of your child, he has now brought his dark plans to bear."

"What Enemy?" Eowyn asked, furious that there could still be an evil that might bring forth darkness across Middle Earth after their hard won battles against Sauron. Had there not been enough brave men dying to prevent such a thing? Had not enough brave men died to prevent such a thing? How many more need die; how much more was needed before they could be truly free of it? "What is this new evil?"

"It is not new," Galadriel continued and turned her attention back to Arwen. "My sweet Evenstar, trust me when I say to you that all is not lost. What you have seen is indeed your son in the flesh but his soul was vanquished before he was born and replaced with another."

"Replaced?" Arwen exclaimed in shock. "Who then has possession of his life?"

"Melkor." Galadriel’s voice was barely a whisper.

Eowyn did not recognize the name immediately but Arwen certainly did. "That’s impossible!" She almost screamed in response. "He died, he died in the First Age! He was vanquished!"

"Melkor or Morgoth as he was known in the latter days was one of the Valar," Galadriel replied. "He was made by Ilúvatar himself and is almost equal to Manwe. He may have been bound to Arda when he chose to come here but like the Valar, he does not die. He may be disembodied but his spirit exists. The Enemy has decided that if he cannot serve Sauron then he will serve Melkor, who created him. Melkor cannot be resurrected without a vassal and so the Enemy has chosen your child for that purpose."

"No!" Arwen's cry was almost on the verge of hysteria. "I will not allow this! There must be a way to stop this abomination!"

"There is," Galadriel nodded. "The Enemy cannot perform the ritual that will resurrect Melkor until your babe is strong enough to accept such a spirit. It is too young and fragile inside you to make such an attempt so he will not try. You must stop him before that happens, Evenstar and only you can do this because as much as he hates us all, he cannot allow harm to be done to you. You are the mother of his future master and while he may kill all others around you, you are beyond him Evenstar."

"Elessar cannot know then," Evenstar met her grandmother’s eyes. "If he learns of this danger he will insist on fighting it and the Enemy will destroy him."

Galadriel had not told her that but Arwen was perceptive enough to guess that much.

"Yes," her grandmother answered somberly. "This is your quest, Evenstar, the fate of your child is in your hands alone."

"No," Eowyn stated, not understanding all of it but knowing with certainty that her friend was not going to go on this terrible mission alone. "I will go with you Arwen. I will pledge the sword of the Lady of Rohan and Ithilien in the service of my friend and my Queen."

Arwen closed her eyes, feeling tears of anguish rising up within her. She wanted to scream and shout at the unfairness of all this but she could not waste time with such displays. Inside her body, her son needed her to be strong for him, stronger than she had ever been in her whole life. She could not falter now, when so much as was at stake. She would accept Eowyn’s help because she was not foolish enough to think that she could do this without her friend at her side.

"Tell me then Grandmother," Arwen said finally. "Tell me what I have to do."


	3. Quest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was written before Return of the King was released so I was unaware of Legolas tolerance to alcohol but as this si an AU, assume the elf can't hold his drink :)

 Upon returning to the great hall where the Fellowship and invited guests were presently continuing their revelry into the night, Arwen learnt that it was no easy thing for a Queen to preside over celebration that gave her no joy. How could she after glimpsing the future in Galadriel's mirror? Even as she took her place next to her lord, her heart was pounding so hard beneath her breast she feared that he might hear it through the din of chattering voices around her. The memory of what she had seen preyed heavily upon her thoughts. In the sea of voices around her, oblivious to the nightmare that was unfolding in the future, beginning with the slumber of her unborn infant inside her body, Arwen felt terribly alone.

If not for Eowyn’s comforting support during the course of the evening, Arwen did not think she would have been able to maintain the mask of the gracious queen she wore for the benefit of those around her. Galadriel had chosen to withdraw for the evening, with Gimli acting as escort. The dwarf had never quite overcome his infatuation for her grandmother and Arwen was certain that on some level, his adoration amused Galadriel. Her father and Gandalf were conversing about matters of great importance in the realm no doubt as Lords and Wizards tended to do when coming together.

Arwen was glad that Elrond was not paying his daughter close attention, for he would have been able to sense her distress just as Aragorn would. Fortunately the King's attention was occupied with the company of his old friends. Arwen knew if he were to observe her closely, Arwen would not able to hide the true depth of her anguish because like her, he would surely know that there was something terribly wrong with his beloved. She longed to tell Estel of this danger that threatened their child, to feel his strong arms about her and hear him speak bravely that nothing would harm either her or the babe while there was breath in his body to prevent it.

Arwen knew that he would be true to his word. He would put his life before hers and their child and as surely as she had seen it come to pass in Galadriel’s mirror, Arwen knew that he would die because of it. The thought of his life being cut short, taken from her so soon before they even had a chance to live a lifetime together was more than she could stand and it stilled her wish to tell him. Galadriel was right; while the Enemy required her child for his dark purposes, Arwen was the only one who was safe from him. One who was powerful enough to draw the dark lord Melkor from the void was more than capable of killing the King of Gondor and Arwen would not let that happen. With as much conviction that Aragorn would protect her, Arwen would not risk his life.

The maiden Immoen known throughout Gondor as the finest songstress in the land was now performing for her King and his guests. Her voice was a sweet melody that captured the hearts of all that listened. As she sang her songs of love and courage enduring through all things, Arwen's gaze touched that of her husband. His hand fell across hers, squeezing tightly as the full measure of his feelings expressed themselves silently to her in his eyes. Arwen knew that in that one instant that he was finally happy with his life in a manner that he had not felt since his coronation. Her heart soared at this knowledge but also plunged realizing that her course was now clearer than it had ever been.

This quest that lay before her was hers to fulfill alone. She could not risk him under any circumstances.

However, was it fair that she risked Eowyn's life as well? The Lady of Ithilien had pledged her life and her sword to her queen. As much as Arwen wanted her aid in this journey she would soon make, Arwen feared that Eowyn could be in as much peril as Aragorn. She cherished Eowyn as much as she loved her Estel and knew that in facing the Enemy, Eowyn would be vulnerable. The lives of men were so terribly short. If Arwen were to die in this quest, she would do so with the knowledge that she had a good long life as measured by Men and she was satisfied with the joy she had experienced. It was not so for Men whose lives were a star burning hot and bright but short. If Eowyn were to come to any harm, Arwen knew she would spend much of her existence from that fateful day regretting it, And yet she did need the help. What was she to do?

As the night progressed, she debated this question deeply and as the King engaged his old friends in conversation, Arwen noticed that Frodo Baggins was seated alone for a time, choosing to watch with a smile the Fellowship together, without participating himself. She stared at him for a moment, realising at that instant how much older he appeared from their last meeting. His face was as youthful as ever but his eyes, they had seen too much of the world and been marked forever by it. Arwen suddenly realized that if there was one person who might be able to aid her in her decision regarding Eowyn; it was the Ring Bearer.

After all, he had once made the same choice.

"You do not join in Frodo," Arwen said as she took the seat next to his, following his gaze as he watched Merry telling the most animated tale involving Farmer Maggot and tainted brew.

"I join in my own way, your highness," Frodo smiled pleasantly at her. "I found that one of life's pleasures is to watch ones friends at their best and keeping the memory to sustain you in the dark times."

"It is a good habit," she agreed and supposed he would have done that quite a bit during his journey to Mordor to dispose of the One Ring.

"And are you excited at your news?" Frodo asked, aware that he had not had much time to spend in her company since arriving here.

To him, Arwen would always be that wondrous creature that had stepped into his delirious mind when the blade of the Nazgul had almost forced him into shadow. She was then and was still, the most beautiful woman he had ever cast his eyes upon and although he would never speak it out loud, there was a part of Frodo that would always be a little in love with the Elven queen. How fortunate a man was Aragorn that she adored him so and Frodo felt gratified that the king appreciated her as the jewel she was.

"Yes," she replied attempting to sound as happy as a woman in her condition should be but it was a difficult façade to portray in light of what she knew about her child's fate. "I am terribly happy."

Frodo detected a flicker in her eyes of something undefinable but could not be certain of its cause and thought it rude to inquire after it, if she did not wish to tell him. "What would you wish for, a boy or a girl? I know it is tradition that you should want a boy but what are your feelings personally?"  
  
Arwen swallowed thickly, never imagining that such simple questions asked so innocently could be the cause of such pain. It slashed at her, the hope in his voice, when she knew that this child was doomed to be a scourge if she failed in her mission. "I only hope that my child is born safely. I care not which gender he is though I think it will be a boy."

"Arwen," Frodo stared at her sensing melancholy in her words. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she smiled sadly, brushing away her sadness. "Frodo, if I were to ask you a question, would you be able to answer me honestly?"

The intensity in which she imparted the query took him back somewhat but he could never deny her anything. "Of course, we are friends and friends are honest with one another. Ask what you may and I will try to answer."

Arwen took a deep breath to steady herself for his answer, no matter how unpleasant it was. "When you left the others bound for Mordor on your own, why did you take Sam with you?"

The question surprised him and he had to confess, it was one that had not been asked of him before. He remember his thoughts at the time and how Galadriel’s Mirror had shown the consequences of failure if the One Ring were to return to Sauron’s hands. He thought about how Boromir had stared at the One Ring, thinking it a way to secure his people’s safety unaware that it was already swirling tendrils of darkness within his mind in readiness to take him. Boromir was a good man and an equally good friend. Until his attempt to take the ring, he had fought bravely along side the rest of them and after he had come to his senses, had died to protect Merry and Pippin.

After he had fled from the Fellowship, he had thought about how Boromir had succumbed and knew that it was not his fault. The One Ring was seductive and Boromir whose lands stood on the periphery of Mordor knew better than most what it was like to fight Sauron’s forces. If it had taken him first, it was only because he had the most reason to need it. Frodo had left because he had no wish to see the rest of the Fellowship suffer the same fate . However Sam had not given him a choice because his loyal servant was also a faithful friend and he could not deny that he was afraid to proceed onwards to Mordor alone. Still, there had been moments during that journey when Frodo had considered leaving Sam.

"I wanted to leave him behind," Frodo answered after a long pause, remembering that the point of all this had originated from Arwen’s question. "I did not wish to risk him as the others were risked but then he followed me, giving me no choice in the matter. I suppose I could have left him behind if I really wanted to but I think I was afraid that when I stared into the fires of Mount Doom when the time came to destroy the ring, I might not be able to. However, if Sam were there, he would see to it that I did what I had to. As it turned out, it was fortunate that he was with me."

"But how did you know that the One Ring might not influence him?" Arwen asked giving a short glance at Sam who was at the moment, seated next to his wife Rosie as Gimli told them tales of the Glittering Caves and his new home.

"Sam’s heart is purer than mine and I do think stronger. He thinks of practical things and when his course is set, he does not think about all the things that may go wrong or what dangers lie on the path ahead. He can only see the end of the journey. It is good to have a friend like that sometimes for he helps to keep you from straying from your purpose." Frodo concluded.

"What about the danger?" Arwen probed further. "Did you not worry that his life might have been endangered? That he might have fallen into shadow?"

There was a feeling of desperation to her questions that unsettled Frodo greatly and he wondered as to their purpose. However, he answered her nonetheless. "I worried about it at length but I also knew that I would not be able to convince Sam to abandon me nor did I have the right to force my will upon what was ultimately his choice."

Arwen shifted her gaze to Eowyn who showed no signs of worrying over what they would soon be embarking upon as she sat at Faramir’s side, listening to Merry and Pippin’s tales. Frodo was right of course but hearing his words did give her comfort at the choice to take Eowyn with her on this perilous quest.

"I suppose in the end, that is all that truly matters is it not?" She sighed softly.

"Arwen," Frodo said seriously. "You are troubled and this question does not seem to be in keeping with mere conversation. What is wrong?"

"I cannot tell you Frodo," she whispered softly. "And I beg you to keep what we have discussed between us. I have reasons for remaining silent which I cannot impart to you now but it is of the gravest urgency that you obey me in this, if you care at all for me or for Elessar."

"You need never beg anything of me Arwen," Frodo answered earnestly but the fear he saw in Arwen’s eyes was real and it made him question the sensibility of his agreement to her request. There were secrets that could kill, even those shrouded in the best of intentions.

"Thank you Frodo," she smiled wanly and knew that despite questioning its prudence, Frodo would keep his word and her confidence.

They spoke no more of secrets but it weighed heavily upon their minds until the evening ended and Arwen retired, leaving Frodo with anxious questions and terrible sense of foreboding that he may yet to regret what he had promised her this night.

* * *

 

"It was good to see everyone again," Aragorn sighed happily as he lay contented on the cools sheets of his bed and held his wife’s warm body in his arms.

It was in the small hours of the night and their guests had either turned in or were still sprawled under tables were they had drunk themselves to a merry stupor. When Arwen had spirited Aragorn away to their bed chamber, the king of Gondor was certain he had seen Pippin’s small feet protruding from beneath the table where the hobbit had spent half the evening imbibing pints of drink. He did not think that a diminutive creature like such as Pippin could possess such a lusty appetite for hard drink and but to his credit, Pippin had managed to last Gimli and Faramir in this endeavor. As Aragorn lay his head against the pillow, he knew being king of the unified lands was not going to prevent him from suffering the aftermath of the evenings’ celebration and he hoped his wife’s talents for healing would spare him the torture. If not, he would have to seek out Legolas in the morning since it was known that elves were not the best of drinkers and Legolas’ attempt to keep up with Gimli was sure to have painful consequences.

"Yes it was," Arwen agreed, savoring the feeling of lying in his arms and in their bed, secretly aware that it was going to be the last night she would spend in his company until her quest was done. "I have forgotten how much I missed them all."

"So had I," Aragorn replied, breathing in the heady scent of her hair into his lungs. "Sometimes I think that day in the Prancing Pony happened to some other man because it seems so long ago and a lifetime away from where I know now stand."

"The world changes my love," Arwen smiled, her fingers tracing the bare skin of his chest with small circles. "You have simply changed with it."

"Until tonight, I did not know I could be happy as I might have once been though I wonder if I was ever truly content. I was always filled with uncertainty although I had much freedom and now that I am so certain, I have little freedom. I have yet to decide which is better." He replied softly. "But I have you to love and soon my child as well so I think I can be happy as King."

"I am glad," she said softly, her eyes fixed on his. "I want to see you happy Estel. You deserve it. You have brought pride to the line of Isildur and to the great kings of the past. When our son is born, he will have a father he can look up to."

Aragorn looked at her with mischief and remarked with a brow raised, "how is it so that you are so sure its going to be a boy? It could be a girl." He teased mimicking the words she had used when she had first told him of the news.

"It will be a boy, "Arwen replied softly, saddened by how she had come to know this fact. "I know it."

"I did not lie when I said I did not care what it is Undomiel," he raised her chin so that he could look into her eyes. "Any child that comes from you will fill me with joy no matter if it is a girl or boy."

"I know," she smiled and slid herself along the length of him so that she could capture his lips in a kiss.

Arwen kissed her precious Elessar and there was no terrible darkness waiting on the edge of her consciousness when her passion ignited his. She felt his body cover her own and forgot the sorrow of parting that would come with the morning. Everything was driven away for a brief time when they were the only two creatures in each other’s world and it was enough to fill their hearts with indescribable happiness. Arwen did not care what tomorrow would bring, all she knew was that she loved him and that this was possibly their last night together if she failed in what she intended to do. Shrouded in each other’s heat, their need for one another became an agonizing game of pleasure and pain, of touching and tasting and animal lust wrapped within the complexity of deep abiding love.

And when they were both completed, when he lay against her breast, the air soaked with the scent of their lovemaking, she watched him sleep. His face no longer appeared as Aragorn Elessar the King of Gondor and Arnor but rather like that of a boy worn after a hard day’s undertakings and prayed that it would not be the last time she saw him this way.

* * *

Eowyn did not have so passionate a farewell to make with Faramir as Arwen but she did not mind it terribly. She loved her husband deeply even though once she had thought much of Aragorn. However, Faramir, younger brother of Boromir had won her heart with his gentleness and his understanding that she was a woman like no other and should be cherished for her differences. For that alone, she would love him until the day she died and while Arwen looked upon the quest ahead with much fear that she would not survive, Eowyn had refused to believe that this was the last night she would spend with her beloved.

Unfortunately, when he was in the company of the hobbits and Gimli, he seemed to lose all good sense and as she watched him snoring in their chamber, dead to the world, she could not help but smile at how peaceful he looked. Much too at peace for her to attempt to awaken him even if she would have been able to rouse him from his drunken slumber. Of course she did not berate him for his excesses in the company of the Fellowship and knew that it was not often that he could forget his station in life to be himself amongst people he could truly call his friends. Eowyn understood all too well what it was to live behind walls, even if they were erected around ones true self.

Eowyn rested all night at the side of her husband and only when the sun began its ascent into daylight did she stir to begin the day ahead. The merriment of last night ensured that he would not notice when she rose from her bed and prepared for her departure with Arwen upon this important quest. Even though she was now the Lady of Ithilien, she was still at heart the Shield Maiden of Rohan and her travel garments were the same that she had worn to disguise herself as Dernhelm when she fought at the Battle of Pelennor. Slipping into them gave Eowyn a sense of coming home and of melting into the person she was under all the finery that was a requirement of her station these days. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, Eowyn felt more at ease with herself then she had in so long and realised how much simpler the days had been in years past.

Unfortunately, she could not linger indefinitely. She and Arwen had reached the same conclusion the night before that if either of their loves learnt of their plans, they would not be allowed to set foot beyond the palace walls, let alone go forth on this quest to battle an agent of Melkor. Taking the same blade with her that she had used to slay the Witch King, Eowyn was soon ready to leave. She stared at herself in the mirror briefly one last time, finding it a little startling to see the Shield Maiden of Rohan standing in the place of the Lady of Ithilien. However as always, Eowyn brushed aside such disconcerting thoughts for there was work to be done and time was short.

She crept to the bed where Faramir remained in deep slumber and found a little smile crossing her lips at the serenity on his face. She lowered her mouth to his and kissed him gently, though he did not know it for his black sleep, savoring the smell of him and the silk of his lips against hers. Sighing as she pulled away, Eowyn hoped he would not be too angry with her when he awoke and discovered what she had done. Casting a final look at him, she attempted to brand the image of her husband into her mind, so that she would have something to comfort her in the difficult days ahead before coming to the conclusion that she could not squander any more time with him. It was time to begin their journey.

As Eowyn, shield maiden of Rohan, stepped out of their chambers, she hoped Faramir would understand and knew that it mattered little if he did not; Arwen needed her and Eowyn was not going to fail her Queen.

* * *

"What is our destination?" Eowyn asked as they began their journey out of the White City.

Behind them, Minas Tirith was still bathed in twilight and the city was silent since much of its inhabitants were lost in the slumber following the celebration. The evidence of the last night’s entertainment was obvious by the remains of litter, unconscious people who had not managed to return home and colorful decorations that littered the streets. Arwen basked in the sight of the city, surprised that in the short time that she had called this place her home, it had become as dear to her as her home in Rivendell. Boromir had not lied when he described the beauty of the White City and she was glad that Aragorn was determined to restore it to its former glory, following the war with Sauron. In the distance, Gimli’s unfinished gates framed the edge of Minas Tirith and Arwen knew that once past that boundary, the White City would truly be behind them.

"We are bound for Nargothrond," Arwen answered Eowyn’s question as the partially constructed gates of Mithril began to tower over them on approach.

"Nargothrond?" Eowyn stared at her with astonishment. "Arwen, correct me if I am mistaken but did that not used to be part of the Sunken Lands?"

"Yes," Arwen nodded anticipating Eowyn’s reaction the moment she revealed the name of their destination. "It was a part of the lands that was ally to Numenor. The home of Melian and Thingol."

Eowyn remembered the tales of Numenor, the ancestors to the peoples of Gondor and Arnor.

"Which is now under the sea." Eowyn reminded, aware of the history of the place they intended to journey.

"The Blue Mountains remain and we do not have to journey to Nargothrond itself," Arwen replied. "My grandmother told me what we seek lies in the foot of the Blue Mountains in what remains of the Forest of Brethil, where Turin had fallen."

Eowyn had been present when Arwen was given her vision in the Mirror of Galadriel but elves had a way of speaking that did not need words. She was certain the Lady of the Wood in this manner passed more of what was known of their quest to the Queen of Gondor. Eowyn was accustomed to the manner in which elves purported themselves for they were wise and far older than she had breathed life on this earth and so she did not question their need to keep some things from her. In a sense, it was prudent for they were embarking upon a perilous quest and should she fall, Eowyn would be most disturbed to think that anything she knew might harm Arwen by her being forced to reveal it.

She considered what Arwen had just told her before speaking as to what their next course should be. "If that is our course than it would be best served if we traveledby way of the Anduin River. We can seek shelter in Cair Andros and travel by land past Rauros Falls. The river would allow swifter progress in our journey and we can acquire fresh horses at Lothlorien."

Arwen could not disagree with Eowyn’s plan and travelling along the river would ensure that their chances of encountering danger would be less. Orcs preferred the land and the Anduin was wide and would take many days from their journey northward. It would keep them from travelling the Eastern Shore and from Lothlorien, they could journey to Rivendell. Despite the importance of the quest before them, Arwen felt a little pleasure knowing that she would see the valleys of Imraldis once again and once the elves had parted for the Western Lands, who knows if she would ever see it again? When the elves were gone, the power of Rivendell would fade and the city itself would disappear into the valley forever.

"I adhere to your counsel in this Eowyn," Arwen replied after a time. "I do not know these lands as well as you and we must make haste to reach our destination."

The anxiety in her lovely features was apparent and while Eowyn had no wish to pry, there were some things she needed to know if they were to vanquish this evil that was threatening Arwen's unborn babe. "Arwen, I know that you can only tell me little but I need to know something about what we are embarking upon if I am to be of any use to you."

Arwen sucked in her breath, not wishing to think about what lay ahead, but that was impossible since her whole reason for leaving Minas Tirith and Aragorn required her to keep their dark task in her head.

"Galadriel told me not of what we will face when we arrive at our true destination which is not the Forest of Brethil. We only journey there to find what we will need to vanquish the Enemy once he unmasks himself. Galadriel says that to know his name is to force his hand. His powers are weak I am told and though he is still powerful enough to harm both Aragorn and Faramir should he put it in his mind to, the Palantir in his possession does not allow him to see all as it did in Sauron’s hands. He will act rashly if we were to expose him to quickly."

"So that is why we must leave in secret?" Eowyn ventured a guess.

"Yes," Arwen nodded somberly. "His Palantir allows him only to see Minas Tirith and places of his choosing but it cannot show him what he does not know. Galadriel does not explain but there is something about the Enemy that does not allow him to use the Palantir as fully as it he should. He knows that I am with child but he cannot see into my heart and Galadriel was able to prevent him from seeing my audience with her when I looked into her Mirror."

"So he does not know that we are aware of him," the lady of Ithilien mused. "Surely he will suspect when he discovers we are no more at Minas Tirith?"

"He may but he will not be certain of our course until we reach the Blue Mountains." Arwen explained it as Galadriel had done to her the night before. "If we can accomplish our task there quickly, without interference we may be able to reach him before he is able to infect my child with Melkor’s dark spirit."

"How much time until your babe is strong enough for him to do this?" Eowyn asked once more.

"No more than thirty days," Arwen whispered. "I have until the next full moon to save my son or I will give birth to a child that is Melkor in human flesh."

Arwen closed her eyes in anguish, unable to speak any further because the horror of that was more than she could bear. Her body shook with emotion and her hands tightened around the reins of her steed with such intensity that her knuckles became white. Tears wanted to spill from her eyes at the unfairness of her lot but she knew that it would avail her nothing. It would not change that the Enemy was going to harm her baby unless she prevented it.

"It will not happen," Eowyn’s hand clutched her own.

Arwen looked up and met Eowyn’s eyes to see in them a substance harder than mithril. "I swear to you Arwen, not only as your friend but as your loyal subject and the one to whom I pledge my sword to, I will die before I allow my future king to be blighted in such obscenity. We will stop him Arwen, I promise. We will stop him."

It meant a great deal to Arwen that Eowyn should make such a strenuous proclamation. "Thank you Eowyn," she said warmly. "It means much to me that you say that. You are a true friend."

"Well," Eowyn replied with a hint of mischief, intending to bring a smile to her friend’s face. "That goes without saying of course."

Arwen laughed a little and was glad that her emotional torment had passed for the time. Eowyn was right. They would stop the Enemy. They would stop him or die in the trying.

* * *

When Aragorn awoke the next morning, he found himself alone.

His head ached painfully, reminding him starkly the evils of drink should never be underestimated and he grimaced at the throbbing inside his skull when he chose to sit up in his bed. Glancing at the empty space next to him where Arwen should have been, Aragorn felt a little hint of disappointment at her absence. He was not so lost in his drunkenness the night before to forget the memory of their passion and it filled him with a great desire to hold his wife in his arms and tell her that he loved her. No doubt she was somewhere in the palace, attending her own affairs, whether it be concerning the matters of the royal household or more broader tasks involving the kingdom itself, he had no doubt that she would appear soon enough.

Still as he climbed out of bed, there was this feeling of uneasiness about him, one he could not dispel lightly as much as he tried. He went through the rituals of morning, dressing and making himself ready to move about his court and appearing kingly as he did so, still possessed by this sensation that something, somewhere was not right. These were instincts that he had relied upon for much of his life that saved him and many others on more than one occasion. He could not understand why he should feel it now in this most benign of places. Tense, he continued out of his royal chambers, gripped in this feeling that something was coming but he knew not what it was.

Making his way to the great hall, Aragorn was certain that the hobbits would be awake by now, hangover or not. His long friendship with them had taught him one thing about the halflings, that not even Sauron himself could make them miss breakfast, or second breakfast he added to himself with a snigger or elevenses for that matter. Arwen had probably left him slumbering in order to see to their needs. The Queen had a great fondness for the little ones, ever since she took charge of Frodo when the Nazgul blade during the quest of the One Ring wounded him. When he had been in the throes of shadow, Arwen had maintained a vigil at his bedside along with Sam, after her father had administered with healing and Arwen had taken upon herself to attend to his recovery following it.

Before he even reached the hall, he could hear the excited chatter of Merry and Pippin emanating down the corridor. The sound of their animated voices brought a heartfelt smile to Aragorn’s face for it felt like old times again. However, before he could pass through the doorway into the hall, he heard someone’s voice behind him.

"Aragorn," Legolas was approaching and the king frowned. He should have known that the only person who could sneak up on him was the Prince of Mirkwood.

As Legolas approached, Aragorn was forced to stifle a smile for the prince did not appear to have the spring in his step that the king was accustomed to seeing. In fact, for someone so fair, it was safe to say that at the moment, the expression on Legolas’ face was positively grim. Fortunately, the disposition of his old friend did not appear urgent merely annoying to himself and Aragorn had something of an idea as to why he was feeling as such. He recalled the drinking contest of sorts engaged by Gimli, Faramir and the hobbits Pippin and Merry last night. Legolas being the friend he was to the dwarf had joined in for good measure but it was a known fact that Elves were no good with spirits, as Legolas was now finding out for himself Aragorn was certain.

"How do you fare this morning Legolas?" Aragorn asked.

"I think I’m going to be ill," Legolas grumbled.

"The nearest window is in that direction," Aragorn said helpfully.

The Elf gave him a look through narrowed eyes. "If you were truly my friend you would kill me and end my misery."

"I thought elves were known for their ability to endure," Aragorn teased. "I am certain that your suffering will pass."

"Not soon enough," Legolas grumbled as the two resumed their journey to the hall where the smell of food was wafting towards them.

"Tell me," Aragorn asked as they approached the entrance. "Did you see Arwen anywhere?"

"No," Legolas shook his head. "I have not. Why?"

"Its just that I have not seen her this morning," Aragorn replied, feeling once again that uneasiness that did not dissipate with Legolas’ arrival, merely shunted aside briefly until now. "I wonder where she is."

"She is probably seeing to your guests," Legolas responded, noticing the concern in Aragorn’s face as genuine worry.

Aragorn supposed that was possible. After all, they were host to some of the most prominent people in Middle Earth for this celebration. Lord Elrond of Rivendell was here, Galadriel of Lothlorien, Faramir of Ithilien and Eomer of Rohan and he was certain that Arwen felt a little self conscious playing hostess to such a prestigious collection. She was Queen as long as he had been King and while he had numerous chances to prove himself since beginning his rule, Arwen’s opportunity to shine in her position was limited to occasions such as this. Prior to the arrival of their guests, she had been a flurry of action, moving across the palace, ensuring everything was perfect.

"I am sure that you are right my friend," Aragorn smiled and then patted Legolas on the back and grinned, "come along Legolas. Let us get some food into you. I am certain, meat off the bone, tender and red, covered in thick gravy and eggs bubbling with fat will make you feel so much better. All that food churning in your belly, bubbling with last night’s spirits….."

Legolas glared at him and muttered under his breath, "and to think I saved you from the Orcs."

* * *

  
If there was one thing that Aragorn would never become accustomed to, no matter how long he ruled in the White City as king, it was the sight of everyone standing up whenever he entered a room. He resigned himself that such would be the reaction of all until the end of his days and had learnt to tolerate this unhappy symptom of his elevated status. But Aragorn had to confess, it felt even stranger when he saw his friends carry out this duty of royal protocol. He bade them to sit as soon as they had made the attempt and glowered at Legolas who was getting his own back at Aragorn’s earlier teasing.

Merry and Pippin well into breakfast and possibly second breakfast as the pile of food on their plates indicated that it was not their first helping. Frodo was a little more sedate and without Sam at his side. This did not surprise the king a great deal since if he knew Master Gangee with any accuracy, the hobbit and his lady were no doubt traipsing the sprawling gardens of the palace, enjoying the scenery. Elrond was also present, engaging in conversation with the former ring bearer and the Lord of Rohan, Eomer. Unlike his Mirkwood cousin, Elrond had been sensible enough to stay away from drink the night before and appeared quite well. Gimli was enthusiastically feeding himself for dwarves were capable of fashioning themselves stomachs made of iron as was the common joke about their ability to handle drink.

Faramir however, seemed to be trouble and Aragorn wondered what was the cause of it as he joined his friends and was served his breakfast by a serving maid. She then attempted to do the same for Legolas but was waved away by the elf. Faramir’s concern however did not seem passing and lingered on his face even after Aragorn had greeted him and he had responded in kind. He knew that Faramir would not confide in him unless he asked because in that way, the Lord of Ithilien was much like his brother Boromir. Even though Faramir was not the friend who had fallen during the quest, Aragorn would always feel the same responsibility towards Faramir that he did to the White City because of his promise to Boromir at his death.

"You seem troubled," Aragorn said quietly to Faramir, whom he had beckoned over.

"It is nothing," Faramir replied brusquely, clearly bothered.

"Faramir," Aragorn looked at him. "I am not merely your king, I am your friend. Tell me what ails you? With Legolas it is clearly too much drink."

Legolas, who was seated beside him, muttered something in Elvish that Aragorn did not wish to translate nor let be made known publicly. He did not know the Elves knew such words.

Faramir cracked a little smile at Aragorn's attempt at levity and decided that if he could not trust his king, he could trust his friend and Aragorn was right about that much; they were friends. "I cannot find Eowyn."

"That is hardly a cause to worry," Aragorn replied but inwardly, he was tensing because he now noticed that Arwen was not present either. "She is probably somewhere with Arwen. I have not seen the queen this morning either." 

"I would not worry at all for my wife is very capable of fending for herself, except…," he paused hesitant to speak further for it might confirm what he feared to admit.

"Except?" Aragorn stared at him and by now, Legolas was also paying attention.

"She took her sword and her travelling clothes with her."

Suddenly, Aragorn could fully appreciate why Faramir was so concerned. Eowyn would not take her sword with her unless she was intending to use it. If she had taken her travelling clothes then it was certainly not to do so here. "Faramir," he finally spoke. "Have you see Arwen at all this morning?"

The Lord of Ithilien’s eyes widened, realising that perhaps his situation was not entirely unique. "No," he shook his head. "I have not."

Aragorn stood up abruptly, feeling his heart pound. "Has anyone seen Arwen or Eowyn this morning?" He asked loudly, silencing everyone in the room with his question.

There was a long pause and Aragorn saw by the blank stares that were aimed at him that no one had seen either his wife or Faramir’s at all this morning. Aragorn had not bothered to check Arwen’s things when he had left his chambers but he was certain that if Eowyn was absent, his wife was as well. There was nothing but his own heart to prove this but he could not believe anything else. As his gaze swept across the faces of his friends, he noted something in Frodo’s that was slight, almost a flicker actually but it was enough to catch the King’s sharp eye.

"Frodo?" He stared at the hobbit no longer as Strider or Aragorn but rather as King.

Frodo sat up straighter in his seat, appearing clearly disturbed now that Aragorn had singled him out and hesitated briefly, as he sought an answer. "I promised her I would not speak of it."

"Promised her?" Aragorn started to become more worried. "Promised Arwen?"

"Yes," Frodo nodded. "I do not wish to betray her confidence."

"Tell them Frodo," Gandalf the White’s voice sailed through the room and drew all eyes to him.

With him was Galadriel and as they swept into the room, they forced away the atmosphere of levity that had preceded them and replaced it with growing foreboding. Aragorn felt his heart starting to pound with worry that something terrible was about to be imparted upon him. The uneasiness that had dogged him all morning had now found its time and he lowered himself into his chair, waiting for the news that would tell him he had good reason to feel so much anxiety.

"But Gandalf," Frodo protested, not ready to break Arwen’s trust. "She was terribly insistent I did not say anything."

"He need not break Arwen’s faith, Mithandir," Galadriel smiled at the hobbit in admiration for his devotion to the Queen of Gondor. "We will tell Aragorn what he wishes to know."

"And I as well mother," Elrond said with just as much fear as Aragorn now. "She is my daughter as she is his wife. If there is a threat to either, I will know it now."

"Arwen has embarked upon a quest of her own," Gandalf explained, aware that the tempers in the room were frayed and it would take only a little for them to snap.

"A quest?" Aragorn sputtered. "She is with child! She is in no condition to go on any kind of quest!"

"She must go on this one," Galadriel answered calmly in stark contrast to Aragorn's harried tones. "It involves your child."

"And Eowyn went with her," Frodo mused, understanding at last the need for Arwen’s odd questions. "There is some great danger afoot isn’t there?"

"Yes Frodo," Gandalf nodded somberly, anticipating a loud outburst from Aragorn when he did.

"What danger? If there is a quest or some danger to our child, I should be the one to fulfil any quest. Not her!" Aragorn boomed. "How could you keep this from me, either of you?" He demanded, his eyes filled with accusation.

"Please understand that it is not our wish to see the Evenstar harmed," Galadriel hastened to explain. She could understand his frustration and his anger. Arwen was his wife just as she was Galadriel’s grand daughter. "The quest had to be fulfilled by her. She alone can fight the evil that threatens us all."

"And what part does Eowyn have in all this?" Faramir demanded just as angrily as Aragorn had.

"She pledged her sword and her life to her queen," Galadriel answered.

"That is why she asked me about Sam," Frodo sighed, understanding ever better now. "She asked me why I took Sam with me to Mordor, even after I left the others. She wanted to know if it was right to take him, even if it might cost him his life."

"Undoubtedly, she was worrying whether or not it was right to take Eowyn," Gandalf ventured a guess.

"What is this danger that she alone must face?" Aragorn asked, barely able to restrain his anger or himself from riding out immediately after his wife.

Gandalf and Galadriel exchanged glances, knowing that there would be no peace with Aragorn or anyone else for that matter until they learnt the reason for Arwen’s and Eowyn’s flight from Minas Tirith. Neither could blame those assembled for their anger, especially Aragorn’s for it was not only his wife at risk, it was also his child as well. As a king, a husband and a soon to be father, it was his natural instinct to wish to protect them both but he had to be made to understand why it could not be him, even though she suspected it would do little to hold him back. Still it might give him pause when the time came for him to decide what was more important, his pride or his child.

"Melkor." Galadriel answered in one word and braced herself.

"MELKOR!" Elrond exploded. "You send my daughter alone to face MELKOR?"

_Melkor. _

For an instant, Aragorn was filled with such fury that he could not think. He knew who Melkor was and he knew the legends of the former Valar who was equal to Manwe, who took physical form in the First Age as Morgoth and brought war upon the lands of Middle Earth. It had taken the combined strength of the Valar and the Maiar to destroy Melkor and return him to the Void. Did Galadriel expect him to believe that sending Arwen and Eowyn alone to face such horror to be any way to deal with such a threat? However, he restrained himself, giving Galadriel a chance to explain because he had to believe that there was a good reason for her actions.

"It is not Melkor that she will face," Galadriel saw Aragorn’s pause and was grateful for the chance to speak. "It is one of his minions who has chosen to resurrect Melkor by using your unborn child as its vassal. The Enemy seeks to bring Melkor's essence from the Void and infuse it into your son's body, displacing his soul for Melkor's own."

"By Valar," Aragorn heard Legolas whisper in shock while Elrond had dropped to his seat in horror.

"And you sent her to fight him?" Aragorn managed to speak, his voice nothing more than a low hiss.

"She is the only one who can fight him Aragorn," Gandalf answered for Galadriel. "While your child slumbers in her womb, the Enemy cannot harm her. If he were to harm either your wife or child, his plans will not come to fruit. However, if you were to go and attempt to face him, he could kill you and anyone who goes with you easily. He has that kind of power. It must be Arwen that goes because she can use his need for her safety as a weapon against him."

"And what of Eowyn," Faramir demanded coldly of the wizard. "What of my wife? Is she as safe?"

"Eowyn pledged herself to her Queen," Galadriel stared at him. "She is not safe but she is a good warrior and will acquit herself well."

"Where did they go?" Aragorn asked quietly and in a tone of voice that not even the Lady of the Wood would dare defy.

"Arwen has to find the tools to with which to battle the Enemy and her journey would have taken her north, towards Lindon."

"To the Grey Havens?" Elrond asked.

"No," Galadriel shook her head. "Beyond to the Blue Mountains, into what was known as the Forest of Brethil. She must recover the weapon of Turin."

"Then that is where I will go," Aragorn pushed himself away from the table.

"You must let Arwen complete this task," Galadriel implored. "You are vulnerable. She is not."

"You do not understand do you?" He stared at the Lady of Lothlorien. "I love her more than my life itself and if any harm befalls her, I will be done with this world. You assume she cannot be harmed but if she refuses to submit to the Enemy, what assurance do you have that he won't kill her out of sheer malice? I know my wife, perhaps better than you, Lady of the Wood. Did it not occur to you that if she cannot defeat the Enemy, she would kill herself rather than allow him to use her or our child to bring Melkor’s evil into the world?"

"She would not do that," Galadriel retorted, not anticipating the possibility. Elves were immortal but those who chose mortality did so at great cost and consideration to themselves. Life was not something to be squandered and taking one’s own was beyond comprehension. Why was there such need when all one needed to do to escape the pains of this world was to simply sail across the sea to the Undying Lands? Yet, Evenstar had always been something of an aberration. She had done nothing that was expected of her and so could Galadriel say for certain that she might not chose such a course if there was the possibility of failure?

"Yes she would," Elrond hissed with as much anger. "If she for one minute thought that her child would be the source of such destruction upon Middle Earth she would not hesitate to make the sacrifice."

"Lord Eomer," Aragorn turned to his trusted comrade, no longer looking upon the troubled visage of Galadriel. He was too angered by what he had learnt to do so, aware that he may be uncivil to the lady and he did not wish to disrespect Undomiel’s grandmother, though she sorely deserved it in his opinion. "I would request that you remain in Minas Tirith and oversee the kingdom for the duration of my absence."

"Of course Sire," Eomer nodded obediently, for Eowyn was his sister too.

"I will go with you Aragorn," Gandalf offered, wishing to be present to counsel Aragorn when the time came.

Aragorn was also angry at Gandalf for keeping his secrets with Galadriel, however, their long friendship stilled his fury and Gandalf’s knowledge of the events transpiring was needed for the journey ahead. "I will be grateful for your counsel in this mission."

"My wife rides with yours," Faramir stared at Aragorn. "Thus I will ride with you. I pledge my sword to my King as my wife has done for her Queen."

Aragorn smiled gratefully and could not refuse his aid; after all he was right. Eowyn was in even more danger than Arwen. "Thank you my friend."

"You will need my sharp eyes and senses, such as they are at the moment," Legolas added his voice into the mix. "When my head stops hurting, I am certain I will be of use to you."

"Well you cannot go out there with so much danger armed with an elf who can hardly hold his drink," Gimli’s loud voice boomed in Aragorn’s ear.

Legolas frowned at the dwarf whom he had considered to be his good friend, wondering if it was such a bad thing if he were to accidentally shoot the dwarf in the behind with his bow once they were out in the open. "Your consideration to you king is admirable," Legolas glared at him.

"I would be glad to have your company, Gimli, son of Gloin," Aragorn smiled, glad to be surrounded by so many good friends, who were willing to ride with him on what was clearly a perilous quest. Suddenly he was reminded of being back in Rivendell again, in that Council meeting where Elrond disclosed the re-emergence of the One Ring and the growing threat of Mordor. When Frodo had agreed to take the One Ring to Mount Doom, he had suddenly acquired a slew of companions who would make the journey with him. As his friends offered themselves to him, he now understood why Frodo had been willing to walk away from them in order to spare their lives.

"And what about us?" Pippin stepped forward, staring at them reproachfully for forgetting the contingent from Hobbiton. "Clearly you'll be needing people of some intelligence in this expedition. Before you say anything Merry," he glared at his friend. "I know where we're going."

"Arwen is as dear to us as she is to you Strider," Merry said seriously, ignoring Pippin for the moment. "We would be honored if you allowed us to ride with you."

"And I would be equally honored to have you Masters Brandybuck and Took." Aragorn replied graciously before his eyes rested on Frodo. "And you Frodo?"

"Sam is seeing Rosie home as we speak," Frodo announced giving Gandalf a smile. "I had some idea that you might need us and made preparations accordingly. I am sorry I kept what I knew from you Strider, Arwen begged me not to speak of it and I can never deny her anything."

Aragorn let out a heavy sigh, remembering the night before, how she felt when he kissed her, how she had whispered his name in his ear when their bodies were one. He closed his eyes and in a split second all that she was since the day he met her, tugged at his heart. He loved her so, his beautiful Undomiel and the thought that she was beyond the safety of her home, preparing to fight a battle she may not win not only for him, but also for their child, made his soul cry out in torment. He could not lose her. Being king, being alive meant nothing without her. In this life, meeting her had been his finest hour and if he had to die to keep her and their child safe, he was willing to make the sacrifice.

"It is alright Frodo," Aragorn answered with more empathy than Frodo might suspect, "I understand all too well how you feel."

"Aragorn," Elrond came to him. "She is my daughter, my Evenstar but you have been as a son since you came to us in Rivendell, I would see you safely back as well."

It meant a great deal for Aragorn to hear Elrond’s words knowing that it had not been easy for the Elven Lord to accept his daughter’s desire for the mortal life with him. "I will bring us all back safely if it is in my power."

"I believe it is," Elrond smiled as his gaze swept over the faces present. "There is very little you cannot do when your Fellowship is with you."

Aragorn smiled, realising that he was right. The Fellowship would prevail and hopefully, with it so would Arwen and Eowyn.

[ **TO BE CONTINUED** ](http://www.scribe31oz.com/Rivendell3.htm)


	4. Shelob's Children

 

With the White City behind them, Arwen and Eowyn began their long journey to the Blue Mountains, travelling through the meandering vein of the mighty Anduin River whose water flowed through much of Middle Earth. To Arwen’s great surprise, it was far more difficult than she had believed possible to leave Minas Tirith behind her. Two years past when she had bid Rivendell farewell to take her place at Aragorn’s side as his wife and Queen, Arwen had done so with a heavy heart. For though she knew her destiny awaited her in the White City, a part of her would always miss her childhood home. Yet as the Anduin bore her further away from Gondor’s heart towards an uncertain future, she found herself pining for Minas Tirith intensely. It was a strange thing the heart, Arwen decided, that it bestowed its affections so easily upon a place that in her reckoning, had existed for only a hair's breadth of time and yet in that short space had come to mean as much to her as Imladris or Lothlorien.

She knew that much of her sorrow had to do with the quest that lay before her and the yearning for Aragorn and the strong comfort of his arms. As they sailed down the river, her hand rested gently upon her belly, almost as if she could feel the life slumbering within, needing to feel some connection with the babe she carried for he was the all she had of his father. Arwen loathed her weakness and her desperate need for her beloved Estel. She needed to be strong for both her husband and child. What good could she be to either of them if even now, she pined for one while travelling to face the evil that sought to harm the other? She wished she had Eowyn’s strength for Eowyn did not shirk in the face of danger, nor did she yearn for someone else to protect her from it. Eowyn’s way was to face the enemy even if the enemy was her own frailty.

Eowyn noticed her Queen's distress but said little to call attention to it. If it were her facing such terrible evil, Eowyn would know Arwen’s fear as well. She remained strong for her sovereign because Arwen needed her to be in order to draw strength from her own courage. While she did not speak it out loud, Eowyn was filled with admiration at what Arwen was attempting to do. It was a hard thing that Arwen intended, to seek out an Enemy that was almost certainly capable of killing them both, in order to protect the unborn child in her womb. Lesser women would have turned to their men by now for such protection but not Arwen, her love for her King was only superseded by her bravery and though she fought in ways that were not of the sword, she was no less formidable in her own right.

They traveled, engaging in pleasant conversation, as if they were taking a trip to visit an old friend, rather than embarking upon a crusade that could see them both dead before it was done. Eowyn tried not to speak too frequently about the Enemy, aware that Arwen was mindful of him enough already. There was no reason to remind her of what they faced. They sailed down the Anduin, revisited by past journeys and reminiscing about the days when life was not as complicated or as changed as it was now. Yet despite their best efforts, the shadow of the Enemy still lingered at the edge of their consciousness. It denied them forgetfulness from danger they were moving swiftly towards for more than an instant, never allowing them, even for an instant, to forget the danger they were moving towards.

The first break in their journey took place at Cair Andros though they remained there only briefly for Arwen was eager to resume their travel to the north. She had until the next full moon to vanquish the Enemy or else be faced with an unimaginable choice that she had yet to reveal to Eowyn. Arwen knew Eowyn’s devotion to her as a friend and to her queen would not allow the Shield Maiden of Rohan to sit by idly if she intended to do harm to herself. In truth, Arwen had no wish to embark upon such a course. However, her thoughts were fixed not merely upon her beloved Estel or the torment of he would suffer knowing his son was going to become such an instrument of evil but also on the fates of all the races of Middle Earth. Melkor could not be allowed to live again. knowing his son was going to become such an instrument of evil, but also on the fates of all the races of Middle Earth. Melkor could not be allowed to live again. Middle Earth had barely survived the reign of Sauron and was not ready to endure a source of even greater darkness.

As frightened as she was that she might lose her child if she failed, Arwen was even more afraid of what would happen if she did not lose him and still failed.

At Cair Andros, Arwen and Eowyn encountered Galain, the Steward of the island fortress in which the city was encased. Galain had fought alongside Eowyn at the Battle of Pelennor Fields and the two former comrades in arms were more than happy to lay eyes upon each other again. Galain was doubly honored that he not only had the Lady of Ithilien as a guest but also Queen Arwen herself. He inquired after her husband the king and gave hearty reports as to the state of affairs in the region, citing that Orc activity had been driven northward back to their traditional lands where the Misty Mountains and the Grey Mountains meet. Galain offered his apologies for being unable to attend the celebration at Minas Tirith, a trespass Arwen obligingly forgave upon hearing and gave him the King’s best tidings, knowing that Aragorn would have done so had he been present.

Neither Eowyn nor Arwen told the man of Cair Andros the true purpose of their journey.

Arwen revealed only that the impending birth of her child had sparked in her a desire to see the places of her childhood. Thus she was travelling to Lothlorien and Rivendell while she was still able, before the swell of her baby’s growth kept her bound in the White City indefinitely. Galain, a man married with a host of children, understood this desire for his wife was a lady of spirit and was more than happy to aid his queen in so personal a desire. He provided Arwen and Eowyn with fine horses each and offered them passage to the Western Shore for they could not cross Rauros Falls by way of the Anduin and could only pass it by travelling by land.

They left Cair Andros after remaining in the company of Galain and his family for a night. Although he invited them to stay longer, for it was a great honor to his house to have so distinguish a guest as the Queen, Galain understood her need to depart and bid her and the Lady Eowyn well on their journey. A boat ferried them from the fortress to the Western Shore with Eowyn mindful of everything from the instant they set foot on dry land once again. Although Galain was convinced that the Orcs were no more a plague within this region, Eowyn was not anxious to see him proven wrong with Arwen in such a delicate state. She insisted upon maintaining a brisk pace past the falls so that they could return to the safety of the Anduin in journeying towards Lothlorien.

Upon reaching the shore from Cair Andros, they allowed themselves to follow by the flow of the Anduin, as it rushed speedily towards Rauros Falls. Even from the land, the ladies of Gondor and Ithilien could see the currents moving swiftly towards the turbulent cascade of the great river and in far quicker time then they thought it possible, they soon caught sight of cloud like spray that arose from its churning waters. Of the great cascade, they saw little unless they desired to follow the land and stand upon the rocks near the shore where it emptied , but theirs was not a mission of leisure. It was one of urgency and sensibly, they turned their horses to an easier path in the woods to take them beyond its fury.

They had not journeyed very far when they reached a wood clearing that Eowyn had never visited but knew well enough from the King’s stories about the Fellowship and her own husband’s recollections from his one visit. At first, she had not realised that she had come upon the place, however, upon reflection; she realised that it could be no other since they were so close to Rauros Falls. The 'Hill of Sight' known to most as Amon Hen offered them a sweeping view of the wood beneath and as Eowyn stood there, with Arwen watching in equal silent reverence, she could almost feel the presence of the man who had died here. Eowyn knew little of life after death, if such a thing existed for the race of men as it existed for the Elves. Yet as she stood in silent vigilance of what she knew not, it felt as if he had never left this place and would always be bound to the wood in which Boromir had fallen.

"It was here," Arwen remarked, feeling the same sadness as she knew that Eowyn was enduring. "Here the Fellowship was broken."

"It was not his fault," Eowyn said softly with her back facing away from the Queen, her eyes glistening with tears that she would not show to anyone, not even to Arwen. "He was a good man and though I never loved him as I love his brother, he was a friend. He just wanted so badly to help his people and the Ring used that need to seduce him."

"Faramir does not know?" Arwen asked.

"I saw little reason to tell him," Eowyn wiped her tears away and met Arwen’s gaze. "We met only but once and it was while Faramir was still a Ranger of Ithilien. It was on the eve before all the trouble with Mordor began and he had come to my father's court with his own father, the Steward of Gondor, to discuss a possible marriage. I did not love him and he knew it but we accepted that if it must be, we could be friends at least. When the War of the One Ring was done, I saw how the pain of his brother’s loss hurt Faramir, so I remained silent. In truth, there was little to tell him other than for a very brief instant of time I could have been Boromir’s wife."

"The halflings Pippin and Merry watched his end," Arwen said softly. "The halflings Pippin and Merry watched his end," Arwen said softly. "They said he fought nobly, even after he tried to take the One Ring. I do believe they love your brother as much as they do for he is also their last link to Boromir. I know Estel would not have become the King he is if he had not known Boromir."

"He always had the ability to infect people with his cause," Eowyn allowed herself a sad smile. "When he spoke of the White City, you could almost see it with his words. He loved Minas Tirith so, you could see it in his eyes and feel the same longing for it after a time."

"Do you wish to make camp here tonight?" Arwen asked, feeling much empathy for Eowyn at this time. It was a sad thing to lose a friend and what might have been. She had met Boromir briefly but her impressions of the Man of Gondor had been no different than Eowyn’s. He had been a good man with heart enough to fight a world of Orcs if it meant saving his people and it was the greatest obscenity of all that the One Ring was allowed to twist such noble intentions into such dark desire.

"No," Eowyn shook her head. "I had been meaning to come here for some time, to say my own farewells and I have done so. I will always think of Boromir as one who could have taken my heart if there had been time enough but what we might have been is a feast never served and I do love Faramir."

"I think that would please him," the queen said knowingly. "I think Boromir would be happy that you and Faramir have found each other."

"I think so too," Eowyn replied and let out a heavy sigh, dispelling all the grief and sadness that had been lingering in her heart for the last two years over this matter. She had wanted to come here long before this but doing so would require telling Faramir why and she was not ready to do that. Perhaps one day she would be able to tell him the truth but at this moment, it was enough that she had made this one pilgrimage.

Composing herself, she turned to Arwen and gestured to the horses. "Come," she started towards the animals tethered to a tree not far behind them. "We should continue. We have much ground to cover."

* * *

And so they resumed their travels, travelling steadfastly through the day after leaving Amon Hen past the rushing waters of Rauros Falls. Once Boromir’s final resting place was behind them, Eowyn’s mood improved vastly and made a brisk pace towards Cadras Nar, a small fishing village that would be able to furnish them with a boat to continue their journey down the Anduin. Eowyn was eager to reach this riverside community because she was of staying out in the open, especially when the Enemy might be seeking his prize now that she had travel beyond the boundaries of his palantir and out of his seeing. They rode without pausing even though Eowyn suggested that it might be wise to do so since the Queen for all her resilience and determination was still with child and should take caution with the life inside her. However, Arwen was equally resolved to forge on ahead and so they traveled deep into the evening, until the sun had set.

The first thing Arwen noticed when they arrived at Cadras Nar was the silence.

She thought perhaps that the hour was too late for these folk and they were all to bed. But as they entered the streets of the small town upon their horses, the animals seemed troubled and it took some urging to force them to continue. There were no lantern lights beckoning them through the windows in any of the cottages, nor did smoke rise out of chimneys. There was not even the sound of livestock in the barns or footsteps in the distant. There was nothing at all.

Arwen and Eowyn rode past the local tavern, often the most popular place in such villages and saw that it too, was devoid of any folk. The sign hanging upon its entrance swayed back and forth aimlessly in the wind and the door lay wide and inviting to the darkness. Eowyn’s hand dropped to her sword, for there was something of this place that reeked of danger. The silence overpowered them and made Arwen shudder with trepidation. There was the visible stench of death but how that might have taken place was beyond either of them, for if it were not for the lack of people, all appeared as it should..

"There is something a foot here," Eowyn said softly. "I do not like the look of this. We should leave."

"Yes," Arwen agreed readily. "Should we continue onward or should we try to find a boat and depart by way of the river?’

"I would like to leave this place as soon as we can," Eowyn confessed as she remained astride her horse, her eyes searching the darkened streets for some sort of answer to the mystery before them. "However, I would rather we travel by river to put some distance between us and this place. On the river, we can see danger coming, not be overwhelmed by it like this terrible silence."

Arwen could not fault her for that reasoning and confessed to having a desire to be upon the water as well. Her powers as an Elven Princess were slight, even more so since she had become mortal but in the river, she was able to wield some magic and it could be enough to protect her if the peril that had overtaken the village of Cadras Nar chose to attack. "I concur with you on this," Arwen replied softly, not daring to speak any louder in case something stirred in the dark. "I too would rather continue our journey from this place by boat. Our horses will return to their masters once we are gone."

"We must find a vessel to take us then," Eowyn replied, nudging her mount towards the edge of the river, in order to make such a search.

There was a terrible feeling of foreboding in both of them as they reached the shore of the river and dismounted. Their horses were still fretful and both riders were required to soothe the beasts’ anxiety lest they should bolt in their fright and leave Arwen and Eowyn stranded in this silent village. There was no doubt in either Arwen or Eowyn’s minds that the people of Cadras Nar were dead. Even though they had seen no bodies that might give proof of this, the two women could feel the stench of doom that had befallen this place. Something terrible had happened in this place and both were eager to leave before they endured the same vile fate.

Following the shale covered shore, Eowyn and Arwen soon caught sight of a pier to which fishing boats were tethered. They remained anchored, appearing just as desolate as the homes the women had seen upon first entering the town. Neither spoke as they made their way to the forgotten collection of vessels, varying in size and use. There were larger fishing boats, which were constructed to catch a great abundance of fish, there were smaller boats that appeared to be for smaller catches, probably enough to feed ones family and finally there were canoes built for travel which was precisely what they needed.

"If you go seek out a boat and make it ready for our use," Eowyn replied as she stepped onto the wooden dock. "I shall unpack our things from the horses and lead them on the road away from here."

"Are you certain that is wise?" Arwen stared at her in concern, not eager to be parted from her travelling companion in this eerie place.

"I will not stray far," Eowyn replied promptly, understanding her fear all to well. "I shall only go onto the road and release the horses. We have no need of them once we leave and I should not like to think they might fall prey to whatever happened here."

"Alright," Arwen nodded, she swept her gaze across the shoreline and felt the hollowness in her stomach increase at the sight of the darkened houses that travel up and down its length. "Do not be long."

Eowyn nodded and turned away to tend to the unpacking while Arwen stepped onto the dock to find them a means of leaving this place before whatever darkness that engulfed this village found them.

* * *

Eowyn was mindful of every sound as she walked cautiously through the small street leading from the shore into the main track that had brought them into town. She heard nothing and this disturbed her further for there was not even the sound of a mouse stirring or an owl hooting its call in the night. The woods beyond the village seemed comforting now and Eowyn could not deny as she removed the reins from the mouths of both steeds that she wished she were there now, taking comfort in the surround of trees. Being out in the open like this made her feel vulnerable, especially when the community of Cadras Nar felt like a tomb.

She took a deep breath, forcing the fear churning in the pit of her to a far place because she had no patience to deal with such things when she needed to be alert at this time. Having unpacked the horses and leaving all their belonging near the dock where she had last seen Arwen, Eowyn ran her hand against the smooth flank of her horse and then repeated the same comforting gesture on the steed that had borne Arwen all this way. The horses were clearly unhappy at remaining in Cadras Nar and Eowyn guessed that it would not take much to send them on their way. She was reluctant to let them go but knew they would find their way home. No doubt, the sentries on the fortress of Cair Andros would see their return on their shores and claim them.

"Safe journey," she said quietly as she slapped both animals hard on their rumps, startling them somewhat but giving them the imperative to move quickly. She had no wish to cause them harm but Eowyn did not wish them to remain in the village any longer than they should. The horses snorted their indignation at such an abrupt dismissal and immediately broke into a robust gallop down the muddy street. In a matter of minutes, she could no longer hear their thundering footsteps against the dirt.

Once they had gone, she immediately turned up the way she came, intending to join Arwen on the dock and complete their own departure from this place. She reminded herself that upon reaching Lothlorien, she must ask Lord Celeborn to send word to Gondor or Rohan in order to learn what had happened here. The folk of this village had to be somewhere yet she could not imagine any violence that could wipe all traces of them from existence.

Even Orcs left bodies behind.

She was making her way up the small lane that would take her back to the dock when Eowyn heard something moving. It was a strange sound, almost like a flapping of a bird’s wings except that it was too fast for any bird in flight. The sound originated from what appeared to be a boathouse for there were wooden ramps leading to it from the shore. At first, she had considered ignoring the noise for she suspected that there were things in the darkness here that she did not really want to discover. However, when she heard the sound again, this time laced with something she could only call desperation, Eowyn found herself unable to ignore the peril and followed it to its source.

The interior of the boathouse was bathed in darkness and upon her first few seconds into its confines, she heard the sound even more clearly. Its flapping was now accompanied by a desperate but soft chirping, like that of a bird, though extremely weak. Through the window, the glow of the crescent moon illuminated the darkness slightly, though not much and as she followed the noise to its source, Eowyn instinctively unsheathed her sword. She had not taken more than a few steps when she caught sight of a lamp. Deciding that a little more light would probably aid her foolish investigations, she liberated it from its place on a tool bench and saw that the wick was damaged and unable to reach the oil that would ignite it. Not wishing to linger any more than she had to, she made her repairs as she walked towards the noise, her weapon tucked under arm momentarily.

The bird was trapped in mid air and Eowyn wondered how this could be as she saw it in front of her, appearing suspended. At first she could not understand how this was so until the lamp finally lit and the room flooded with light. There was little more than an instant for her to register what was before her before she stumbled back, her mouth open in shock and a scream was trying to find its way out of her throat. Instead, she dropped the lamp to the floor and the room was suddenly bathed in an amber glow. The poor helpless bird that had been trapped was one of many. As Eowyn stared with eyes widening in nothing less than sheer horror, she knew at last what had befallen the people of Cadras Nar because some of them were in front of her.

Trapped on a giant spider’s web.

Their bodies were desiccated, drained of blood, it was the manner in which their murderers fed and Eowyn barely contained her revulsion as she saw corpses of men, women and children alike, suspended over her head. What they were could not even be recognized as human if not for their clothing and with horror she noticed that some of the corpses were not intact. She reached out, her fingers trembling as she saw the corpse of a child wrapped up in the silken threads of the web, hoping against hope that there was still some life left for her to save. She but only grazed her finger tips against the body and the exertion proved to much tension for it broke free of its trappings and landed heavily upon the ground. Her scream was short but heartfelt as she saw what remained of a little boy staring at her with dead eyes. It almost made her wretch with disgust if not for the fact that she made a startling realization through her fear.

She was not alone.

She almost missed its advanced for, despite its size- and it was larger than anything that could possibly be crushed underfoot - it knew how to move stealthily. She saw it from the corner of her eye, a flurry of movement that did not have the fluidity of fire and when she turned around, she found herself staring into its compound eyes. She may have been the Shield Maiden of Rohan but even she had shuddered when Frodo told his tale of meeting Shelob, the giant spiders that had been spawned of Ungoliant in the earliest days of Middle Earth. Shelob had met her end at the hands of Samwise Gamgee and though Eowyn did not think that this was she, it did not lessen the danger.

Yet one of these creatures could not have taken Cadras Nar completely, without one person escaping to tell the tale. As the beast came upon her, Eowyn understood that this one creature could not have done this alone because it was not. There were more! A panic stricken thought impacted upon her senses. Arwen! She did not know! She must be warned! Unfortunately, Eowyn’s ability to do so was hindered by the fact that one of the creatures faced her now, moving in for the kill. She saw its mandibles snapping in anticipation of her blood and the fire burning behind her, having consumed the web and the poor souls trapped upon it. Eowyn produced her sword and thought quickly, for she could not spend too much time dealing with this creature when Arwen might be deadly danger.

Its legs snapped into motion and the creature rushed at her, spitting poison in her direction as it came. Eowyn jumped out of the way, thankful that there was space to keep her from falling into reach of its lethal jaws. Though it was larger than her, it moved with terrifying speed and was soon coming at her again. This time there was no way for her to avoid it and Eowyn lashed out fiercely, tearing through its darkened flesh and eliciting an unearthly howl from the creature. In retaliation it stabbed one of its spindly legs in her direction and though she tried to evade it, nothing could keep it from penetrating the flesh of her shoulder. Eowyn let out a sharp cry of pain and felt the rage bubble in her from the injury. Striking out viciously, she felt the blade sink into the spider’s crimson eye and pulled back with just as much vehemence.

A screech of agony escaped the spider and when Eowyn retrieved her blade, it was dripping with black blood. Partially blinded, the wound enraged the spider and it lunged at her, preparing to cover her with its foul body. Eowyn saw its intent and jumped herself, sliding beneath its form across the floor, coming to a halt only after it had landed in the place where she had been. She rolled onto her knees and saw it swinging around, preparing to launch itself at her again. Blood was flowing freely down her shoulder and she knew that she needed aid but more importantly, she had to reach her queen while she still could. Grunting in pain, she thought quickly for she had spent enough time evading this creature and saw that the fire was now burning in the rafters of the building. The heat stung at her skin and sweat began to run down her forehead. She saw the tall flames behind her and knew that there was one way to end this quickly.

Instead of preparing to flee, she stood her ground defiantly, challenging the beast to do its worst. For an instant, the spider was uncertain of what she intended but then pain and hunger set it forth again and it scampered across the floor in the obscene fashion of its body, preparing to devour her. Its fangs snapped in readiness of the feeding of fresh blood, having been ravenously consuming little things since the people of Cadras Nar had been exhausted. It was of a few driven from Mirkwood following the War of the One Ring and here in this small community, the feeding had been good for awhile. The warrior maiden before it would be tasty morsel that would satisfy its hunger for a good while.

Eowyn saw it approaching and braced herself, ignoring the fear in her heart and reminding herself resolutely that this would only succeed if she defied her fear. The creature closed the gap between them swiftly and as Eowyn saw herself in the reflection of its uninjured eye, she thought she might falter but did not. There was an instant of clarity when the spider’s fangs opened in readiness to feed where Eowyn could almost feel its fetid breath upon her skin, where it was coming at her too fast to stop. In that one instant her mind forgot itself and her instincts took control of her and she jumped out of the way, while her would be killer continued on its path.

It realised too late what she intended and tried to stop but its bulk and speed was propelling it forward and the spider could do nothing but offer a terrified screech of vain desperation as it ran straight into the fire. The flames consumed it quickly and soon Eowyn found herself witnessing the sight of the creature burning alive and writhing in agony. Its eight legs kicking wildly as it tumbled onto its back, driving even more disgust into the pit of her until she could no longer look. Eowyn turned away when she heard the creak of the wooden banister above her burning away until it was prepared to collapse. Grabbing a piece of timber, she turned it into a torch and ran out of the structure beset with flames before it collapsed in on itself.

With her sword in one hand and her torch in the other, Eowyn left the wreckage and went to find Arwen.

* * *

After Eowyn had departed, Arwen had sought out the vessel that would best serve them and untied its moorings so that she could lead it to shore. The smaller canoes were not terribly heavy and she managed easily to pull it onto the shale beach in order to pack their belongings on to it. She tried not to pay attention to the anxiety she felt at being in this place and wondered when Eowyn would come for she disliked being here alone. There was too much opportunity for solitude in this village for her liking as it was and she also worried that Eowyn might be found what it was that had happened here if she were away too long.

She continued to pack their things into the boat, ensuring that the weight was well distributed for it could make their travel difficult if it were not done properly. However, she kept glancing over her shoulder because she could feel something at the edge of her consciousness, nagging at her. With all that she was enduring of late, it was perfectly understandable that she should feel so anxious about any unknown in her life. Still, there was something ominous in the air that made her wish Eowyn would hurry in her task and return for Arwen was feeling more anxiety than she would have liked to admit.

Suddenly, she heard a scream tear through the night.

Arwen stood upright immediately and knew that it was Eowyn’s voice that had cried out so. Her heart began to pound as she unsheathed her sword and ran up the beach, hoping that Eowyn would cry out again so that Arwen could find her. However, there was little need of that because she could see one of the boat houses alive with flame. The building was slowly burning and Arwen needed no second sight to know that it was where she would find Eowyn. However, as she approached the burning building, something else emerged from the darkness that immediately stopped her approach.

Spiders.

There were two of them, emerging from the houses that had been dormant. Arwen knew that they had seen her for their vile eyes turned in her direction and their legs were poised to move in correspondence to her actions. She wanted to run but Eowyn needed her aid, she could not leave! Brandishing her sword with more courage than she felt, she sought a way around them and saw none.

"Let me pass or you shall feel the sting of my blade!" She hissed as she slashed at the air before one of them, in order to show them that she made no idle threat.

The one on her left lunged and Arwen dropped to her knees, seeing the power in its attack and knowing that it would fly above her head. She raised her sword as it moved above her, its tip biting into the beast’s plump abdomen and tearing it open. Black blood spilled forth and Arwen felt some of it on her clothes and almost choked in disgust. The creature screamed in rage and its companion moved in while Arwen was distracted with the first. The Queen of Gondor saw the spindly legged creature rushing at her and let out a cry of horror because she could not escape in time. No sooner than the sound had left her voice she heard the spider squeal in agony as a thick piece of wood was slammed right into its round body.

"ARWEN, watch out!"

The piece of wood was ablaze and as the creature struggled to rid itself of the instrument upon which it was impaled, the fire spread out across its body. Arwen let out a gasp of surprise and relief when she saw Eowyn running forward, placing herself between the other wounded beast and her queen. She moved swiftly, far swifter than Arwen ever thought possible and slashed her blade in a wide arch. The remaining spider screamed in agony as Eowyn took its head. Arwen turned away as the foul creature’s head tumbled from the rest of it and rolled across the beach.

"Eowyn!" Arwen noted the blood on her shoulder. "You are hurt!"

"I am fine," Eowyn said exhausted and looked at the town to see more dark shapes emerging. "We have to go! I fear these are not alone. This village has become infested with Mirkwood’s remnants. We must be away to tell King Thranduil of what transpires here!"

Arwen could only nod for her eyes were fixed upon the other spiders that were fast approaching them. Without wasting any time, the two ladies immediately hurried to the boat, for only the waters of the Anduin could protect them now. Arwen took charge of the boat when they reached it for as bravely and fiercely as Eowyn had fought, the shield maiden of Rohan was hurt. Nevertheless she accepted Eowyn’s help for nothing could convince the determined woman to desist. They pushed the boat into the water, caring little that they were wet, not until they were far enough from the shore to board it and paddle swiftly away. Both women paddled quickly, drawing further and further away from the shore and beyond the reach of the spiders.

As they cast their gaze upon the shore, Arwen and Eowyn gasped as they saw how many spiders there were on the shore, pacing up and down the length of it in frustration, unable to reach the prey that had killed three of their own. Behind the vile creatures, the fire that Eowyn had begun had been captured by the sweep of the wind and the flames were moving to another home and appeared as if it would not be satisfied until the entire village was theirs.

"We must get you to Lothlorien," Arwen said once they were far enough away from Cadras Nar to stop their insistent paddling.

"It is nothing," Eowyn grunted as Arwen examined her wound.

"You are as stubborn as a man about such things. I would have thought that the Shield Maiden of Rohan would have better sense. Those foul creatures usually have poison in their bites, you will let me administer to your injuries. As your queen I demand it," Arwen stared at her imperiously.

Eowyn groaned and stared at her petulantly. "I think it is exceedingly unfair that you should use your royalty to force me to obey." She grumbled.

"I know," Arwen smiled. "Do I not do it well?" The elf asked with a twinkle of mischief in her eye.

Eowyn rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "elves."

* * *

As the Fellowship pursued Arwen and Eowyn down the Anduin, Aragorn gazed upon his travelling companions and was struck by the familiarity of their situation. Once again, the Fellowship was embarking upon a great quest but it was not theirs to fulfil. That duty belonged to Arwen who had been left behind when they had gone to destroy the One Ring. Until now, Aragorn had not known what torture it was to remain behind while loved ones departed to face untold dangers. How had Arwen borne it when he had left Imladris to take on the duty of leading the Ring Bearer to the fires of Mount Doom? It had always been a woman’s lot to wait behind and pray that her loved ones would be delivered to her safely. Until now, Aragorn had no idea how strong one had to be to endure such uncertainty. It was steel known only to women for he could not imagine anything worse than to leave Arwen to her fate and his very presence here was a testament to how much stronger than him she truly was.

Faramir, who was steadily paddling his boat ahead with Merry and Pippin, appeared just as anxious, though the Lord of Ithilien tried not to show his worry. His wife was a brave woman and a cunning warrior. If there was one woman who could acquit herself in any kind of peril, it was certainly Eowyn of Rohan. Yet like Aragorn, Faramir was all too aware that she would not be facing any ordinary foe and the Enemy of whom they had scant knowledge, seemed greater than anything that Eowyn had ever faced. He was afraid for her and rightly so and no matter how much he tried to tell himself that she would fare well in protecting herself and her queen, his love for her made him fear the worse. Faramir hoped that they would not be too late when Eowyn and Arwen were finally found.

Meanwhile, within his own vessel, Legolas was silent. He had been for some time now and though this was not unusual for him as far as his friends were concerned, the Prince of Mirkwood was somewhat troubled. His heightened senses were on full alert because he could feel something bordering the edge of his perception and the sensation it produced with that unknowing was ominous. As he rowed the boat in tandem with Gimli, his eyes scanned the shoreline that ran parallel with the Anduin, trying to learn what this danger was that was coming upon them. At first, he had hardly noticed it for it was the way with elves to notice all things but then as it grew darker in his mind, he started to feel anxious.

"What is it?" Gimli asked when he had paused in his rowing to sweep his gaze against the lands that flanked them.

Legolas did not answer immediately, "I do not know," he replied and that was the whole truth. He did not know, he only felt it.

Gimli knew to trust the elf’s senses for on too many occasions, his perception had saved their lives. He stiffened in tension, disliking this feeling of not knowing from whence the danger was coming. "What do you feel?" He asked quietly for there was no need to alarm everyone just yet.

"Its closeness," Legolas answered and his words made Gimli even more wary.

"Perhaps it is the Enemy that the Queen and the Lady Ithilien have gone to face," he suggested in the hopes that the discussion would abate his anxiousness.

"No," Legolas shook his head. "It if were the Enemy, I would know it instantly. Darkness of such magnitude is not easy to miss. This is smaller but dangerous, I am certain of it."

"The foolishness of it," Gimli snorted in annoyance. "What could they be thinking? Rushing of like that to the peril of both their lives to face who knows what, without telling us. This should be a quest handled by all of us, not two noblewomen."

Legolas raised a brow at Gimli before remarking with some measure of reproach. "They are hardly two noblewomen Master Gimli, Arwen is the Evenstar, she has been alive a great deal longer than you. She has always known how to take care of herself and Eowyn has slain the Witch King of Angmar and fought with us at Pelennor. I don’t think that there are two more capable women of carrying out the task before them."

"You know that I have only the greatest respect for the fairer sex, after all Lady Galadriel holds a special place in my heart. But this quest upon which she has sent Arwen and Eowyn is ill thought. Arwen is with child and should be guarded, not traipsing about the countryside to face who knows what." Gimli retorted though with little real anger in his voice.

Legolas suspected that he could never feel anger at anything that Galadriel did because the dwarf had been infatuated with the Lady of the Wood since his first encounter with her. In truth, much of Gimli’s disposition towards the elves had altered because of that meeting and it had smoothened the way for their close friendship. He knew that Gimli’s feelings about what Arwen and Eowyn had embarked upon were mostly tempered by his affection for both. Legolas felt the same way. Arwen was like a sister to him and he loved her dearly and Eowyn was a comrade in battle as well as friend. He feared for their safety not merely for his own reasons but for that of their husbands who even now, tried to hide their extreme worry from the rest of the Fellowship.

Overhead the sun was starting to set and though Aragorn wanted to travel further, he knew that they needed to rest. They had been journeying down river for almost a day and the weariness was starting to seep into his limbs. He knew that it would not be wise to press on to the detriment of their physical state when they finally reached Arwen and Eowyn. Besides, he suspected that they might seek shelter themselves, after all Arwen was not accustomed to travelling at such an arduous pace and he knew his wife well enough to suspect that she would take care not to harm the babe by straining herself.

The Fellowship aimed their boats in the direction of land and stepped onto the Western Shore. By the time the sun had disappeared into the horizon, they were all gathered around a campfire watching the dance of flames. They feasted upon some rabbits that Legolas and Faramir had managed to snare. As usual the hobbits had a good store of food with them as well and Sam who was accustomed to taking care of his master, did the honors of cooking. The conversation around the fire as they ate was not at all lively as it had been during the celebration in the White City.

"What route do you think they would take to the north?" Frodo asked, more as an effort to dispel the awful silence around the campfire rather than any desire to know.

Aragorn looked up from his cup of mead as if he had been a thousand miles away and shook the distraction from his mind as he addressed the hobbit. "I think they would journey down the Anduin to Cair Andros."

"Yes," Faramir agreed with that assessment. "I believe that Eowyn knows the Steward of Cair Andros. They fought together at Pelennor."

"Galain is his name," Aragorn volunteered, having met the man once. "He would offer them shelter for the night and perhaps horses."

"Horses?" Frodo asked.

"Yes," Gandalf replied before Aragorn could. "They would need to travel by land to avoid Rauros Falls. I believe they would be bound for Lothlorien."

"It would be faster to reach Lindon by crossing the Misty Mountains." Pippin remarked in between chewing his food.

"That would require travelling through Fangborn Forest and Isengard over land," Legolas explained. "The route down river is safest and the one I think Eowyn would select to lessen the burden of the journey on Arwen."

"I thought that we got rid of all the Orcs," Merry frowned, disliking those creatures intensely after his encounters with them during the Fellowship and at the battles after.

"Not all of them," Gandalf rumbled. "They are like insects, they merely go to ground until they are needed by some dark malevolence to guide them. Until then, they scavenge for what they can."

"Sauron’s forces were many," Aragorn sighed, wishing he had spent more time these past two years ridding Middle Earth of that particular threat. Unfortunately, he was a king who wished only the best for his kingdom and after the war, there had been so much rebuilding to do. The Orcs and the Uruk Hai, powerless without their master, had not been that much of a priority.

"We had vanquished many during the War of the Ring but some had fled after he was vanquished. With all that we had suffered to defeat Sauron’s darkness, there were simply too little resources to spend on seeking them out and finishing them once and for all. We had to address our wounds, rebuild what was destroyed and bury our dead."

"But what is left of them seem to have grown bolder of late," Faramir pointed out, recalling the focus of their attention prior to the announcement of Arwen’s condition. "They have been emerging from their places, attacking the border lands, fleeing before the rangers can deal with them. It is as if they are preparing."

"They are readying themselves to ally with the Enemy," Gandalf replied with a low rumble, his eyes lifting from the pipe he was smoking.

"Who is this Enemy?" Frodo asked his old friend.

"I cannot say," Gandalf responded and saw the anger flare in Aragorn’s eyes over the secrecy. "It is not that I do not wish for you to know Aragorn," he quickly explained to still the King’s ire. "There is reason for my secrecy. If he knows that we are aware of him, he may not use the powers with which I can trace him back to his dark lair. As powerful as he is, he is vulnerable beyond his place of power. If Arwen and Eowyn reaches him before we, it may be the only way we have to find them. We cannot take the chance of the Enemy eluding us when it is Melkor he is attempting to resurrect."

Aragorn swallowed thickly and saw in Gandalf’s eyes that he was speaking earnestly. Gandalf had been a true friend and while the ways of wizards could be maddening at times, he also knew that Gandalf would not intentionally keep the identity of the Enemy unless there were good reason for it. He breathed in deeply, as much to calm his anger at this whole situation as it was to accept the wizard’s word.

"We have been through much together old friend," he cast his eye upon Gandalf. "I will trust your counsel in this."

"Thank you,’ Gandalf bowed his head slightly and the gesture was not merely one of thanks but gratitude at the faith Aragorn had placed in him.

"If you cannot tell us what he is, perhaps you can tell us something of his powers." Legolas asked in an effort to give Aragorn something more than just riddles.

"I can do that," Gandalf nodded deciding that he could do that much at least. "He can cloud the minds of men."

"Cloud?" Faramir asked, not liking the sound of that at all.

"Yes," the wizard blew another puff of smoke from his pipe. "He can make them believe a thing with such fierce determination that they can see nothing else but the illusion."

"That’s quite a trick," Sam exclaimed. "How can we fight something like that?"

"By not trusting our eyes," Frodo answered automatically. "What we see can be just as deceiving as what we hear."

No one questioned the Ring Bearer on this point for he knew all too well the deception the eyes could play upon a person. For so many years, a simple gold ring had been to him nothing more than an heirloom of his uncle’s. Who knew that it was a Ring of Power? From a gold band it had transformed into the instrument that could destroy Middle Earth. Following the odyssey to see the accursed thing destroyed had changed Frodo forever. It had turned an idealistic hobbit into something of a cynic who seemed to feel that the best that life had to offer him had come and gone and the days ahead would be merely obligatory.

"So we must questioned all that we see?" Gimli grumbled, not liking the sound of that. He preferred to meet his enemies face to face, to settle everything in one decisive bout of combat. This business of illusion and mental trickery reeked of cowardice.

"We should merely be alert," Gandalf advised.

"Well if the ladies are travelling to Lindon then they would come pretty close to Hobbiton," Merry spoke up for the mood around the fire was much too grim for his liking. "

"I would hope not," Faramir retorted.

"What is wrong with Hobbiton?" Pippin demanded, taking Faramir’s comment as something of a slight to the Shire.

"I meant no offence," Faramir explained himself, knowing just how unpleasant an angry hobbit could be when properly inspired. "It is just that there has been a good deal of Orc activity in the lands near Bree. I should not want either the Queen or Eowyn to encounter any."

"We’ve heard nothing in the Shire," Sam pointed out, rather disturbed that there could be Orcs so close to home.

"Well the Orcs would not dare harm the Shire," Aragorn answered. "As it is – for now, we commit some forces to their removal but if they were to enter the Shire, they are perfectly aware that it would be an army that came after them in retaliation. The home of the Ring Bearer is not to be pillaged by such foul folk as this," Aragorn glanced at Frodo and offered the hobbit a little smile. "Not while I am King."

Legolas had not spoken for some time. As Aragorn swept his gaze across the faces of his friends, he came to rest upon the Elven prince when he noticed something in Legolas’ eyes that made him speak up. "Legolas, what is the matter?"

Legolas did not hesitate to answer, "I do not know but there is something and it is close."

His words immediately inspired the others to reach for their swords and they stared at the darkness of the trees surrounding them, more aware of the shadows than ever.

"Can you tell what it is?"

"No," Legolas shook his head in frustration. He knew that there was danger coming, he just could not tell in what form. It was still not close enough for him to say for certain.

"I sense it too," Gandalf said after a time, his staff clutched firmly in his hands as he too scanned the darkness for the danger that approached.

The Fellowship had risen to their feet and all brandished their weapons in anticipation of what was coming at them. They could hear nothing so far but Legolas appeared tense and in expectation that whatever it was, it would be here soon. It was the same mood that had overtaken them during their journey through Moria, prior to the attack by the Orcs and cave trolls.

"Where are they!" Faramir hissed, revealing his impatience. "I wish they would just come!"

"They will," Aragorn said firmly. "Ready yourself for when they do."

"They are upon us!" Legolas cried out, pulling out an arrow from his collection and arming his bow in readiness.

Red eyes flashed at them as soon as those words escaped him and they were followed by a low snarl that all of them recognised immediately. The peace of the campfire was shattered by the sudden emergence of large bodies of fur moving towards them at rapid speed, led by snapping jaws and ferociously sharp teeth. They exploded out of the woods, covered in dark fur, with yellowed eyes fixing quickly upon their intended prey, their savagery evidenced by their snarls and growl, converging into a tremendous roar that soon brought everything about them to chaos.

"Wargs!" Aragorn shouted as one of the wolves launched themselves at him. He reacted without thinking, thrusting his blade through its ribs, earning a powerful howl of pain as the weapon tore through the flesh of its back.

They swarmed through the camp, their numbers so many that it was hard to count, their growling draining the world of all other sound. Aragorn saw one about to attack Frodo and moved to intervene but he was soon beset by a duo of the heinous creatures who charged him. Thinking quickly, he dropped to his knees and grabbed a log from the fire and waved it about to give them pause. As they hissed in black fury for being held back by his flame, Aragorn saw that the former Ring Bearer was more than adept at fighting the foul creatures than he had given him credit. With the blade called Sting, Aragorn saw Frodo hack away at the beast attempting to harm him and drive it back. In its attempt to evade the blade, the Warg stepped into the fire and uttered a roar of pain before fleeing to douse its wound. Beside Frodo was Sam, fighting with just as much determination to protect himself as well as his master, between the two of them, the hobbits were putting up a strong defense.

Aragorn saw a flurry of moment in the corner of his eye and turned just as a Warg jumped upon him. Aragorn had no room to move and it felled him heavily on the ground. Sliding his blade between him and the creature’s snapping jaws, he could fell its fetid breath as its claws scratched at his skin and its teeth trying to take a bite out of him. The two that had been held at bay were not given leave to advance since the flame that Aragorn had used against them had fallen to the ground. Suddenly, an arrow flew threw the air and struck one of the wolves in the neck. The force of it escaped the beast’s side and it dropped in its tracks.

"Help Aragorn!" Aragorn heard Legolas scream before turning his attention to the Warg about to attack. Legolas swiftly retrieved another arrow from his pack and let it fly, it too made its mark for Legolas seldom missed and the creature was close.

The second beast was almost upon him when Aragorn threw the Warg that he was wrestling over his head, slamming it into the other’s abdomen and sending them both tumbling. He rolled onto his knees and pulled the dagger concealed within his boot, flinging it with a marksman’s aim at one. It struck the raging wolf in its breast and the Warg screamed in pain before collapsing on the dirt, its black blood oozing across the ground. Now that the one was dead, Aragorn rushed forward to deal with the first. The Warg glared at him with sinister eyes, its teeth dripping with saliva as it circled him, waiting to pounce. Aragorn remembered how fierce these creatures had been during the battle of Pelennor when the Orcs had used them like horses.

The Warg ran forward and leapt into the air, Aragorn watched its movements before swinging Anduril in a wide arc. The blade forged from the shard of Narsil, the sword of Elendill which was used to cut the One Ring from Sauron’s hand sliced through the less formidable flesh of the Warg, tearing open its insides in one final and gruesome blow. The wolf had barely enough time to utter a cry of pain before it dropped in mid air, its body making a heavy thud upon hitting the earth. Aragorn turned around to see the progress of his friends and saw that Pippin had somehow managed to mount one of the Wargs as if he were riding a pony. The small hobbit remained steadfastly attached upon the wolf’s back, his hand clutching the beast’s pelt as he steadied his blade for attack. With one powerful movement, more than Aragorn would have thought capable by a halfling, Pippin drove the blade into the creature’s neck and halted its struggles in one blood-curdling howl of agony.

Faramir was battling just as vigorously, showing that he was like his brother in skill and honor. Around him, the Wargs gathered in their death, so many of them that it appeared that there was a sea of fur growing on the ground instead of grass. Gandalf had also produced his sword and was making short work of the creatures that were foolish enough to attack him. Although the wizard had great powers that could probably make short work of all these foul beasts, Aragorn knew that it was Gandalf’s desire to not rely so much on his abilities and to use his more conventional skills. A wizard's powers were not to be used lightly and if he was able to manage his own defense without it, Gandalf would certainly attempt it.

Merry and Gimli fought side by side, proving that their lesser size did not mean they could not make the Wargs regret this attack as the others had. With his mighty axe, Gimli swept aside the beasts as if they were petulant children and the thunderous blows ensured none of the foul creatures would be able to rise. They lay in heaps across the campsite, their bones broken from the onslaught of the dwarf’s axe. Merry’s skill, taught to him by Boromir, allowed him to contribute just as significantly as they cut down the Wargs that would have no doubt killed them all.

When it was all said and done, the campsite appeared like an uncovered mass grave of Wargs. Their black blood ran through the dirt and would soon attract the attention of carrion feeders who would feast upon their lifeless bodies. Aragorn immediately ordered their departure, wishing to be away in case any other foul creature chose to make its appearance. They returned to the shore where their boats were waiting, deciding it would be safer if they made camp near a speedy means of escape. For the most part, they had come away from the melee with little injuries. Faramir had suffered a bite but it had been made through the braces on his arm and despite the skin being broken, it was not a serious wound. The hobbits and Gimli had acquired some minor scratches, all of which Aragorn was able to tend to with his skills as a healer.

"We rid ourselves of all the Wargs," Aragorn stated as they gathered around the fire, albeit, a little more sedately than before the attack attempting to get some rest for the traveling in the morrow. "I know we did."

"I thought so too," Legolas shook his head. "At Pelennor, I was certain we saw the end of them." The archer was cleaning the arrows he had managed to retrieve from the dead creatures, appearing none to happy about the grisly task.

"There seems to be a greater frequency of dark things emerging in recent months," Aragorn replied. "First the appearance of rogue Uruk Hai and Orc tribes, now we have Wargs whom we were certain were done with Middle Earth."

"Its like they’re all emerging out of the darkness," Faramir remarked, attempting to see under the swathing of bandage around his arm and frowning when Merry smacked his hand for making the attempt.

"They’re hearing the call of their Master," Frodo mused softly. "Whatever this evil that Arwen is facing, it’s drawing them to him, just like Sauron."

All eyes turn to him and the fact soured in their stomachs. They had seen such activity in Mordor prior to the Quest of the One Ring. Orcs began to grow in numbers, goblins and trolls had emerged in new ferocity to attack races, they would never have dared before. The destruction of the One Ring had chased them into the shadows but now it appeared as if some new malignancy was bringing them into the world of Middle Earth again.

"Mordor is silent," Aragorn said firmly. "Since Sauron’s defeat, we have maintained close control of it."

"There are evils far older than Sauron, Aragorn," Gandalf replied. "The threat of Melkor upon your child’s existence should make you aware of that."

Aragorn stiffened, not liking to be reminded of that. It was hard enough trying to remain focussed on finding Arwen safely, to think nothing of the child inside her belly whose fate hung balanced upon the success of its mother’s ability to save its soul. "I know that all too well Gandalf," he said softly.

"I did not mean to worry you any more than you already are, Aragorn," Gandalf replied gently, seeing the pain in his eyes. "I just want to say that what we face is formidable and we must be on guard."

"We are on our guard," Pippin retorted. "We fought those things off."

"Yes, you did," Gandalf nodded. "But did you not find it odd that they came after us specifically?"

Aragorn’s gaze snapped towards the wizard. "What do you mean?"

Gandalf drew a deep breath and released it by way of his curved pipe. "The Enemy knows what we are up to. He knows that we are coming and is attempting to stop us any way he can. The Wargs are only the beginning, there will be more soon enough."


	5. Awakenings

She woke up and thought for an instant that she was still wandering the plains of some beautiful dream.

Music that was composed from the depths of the soul teased her ears with their symphony and she was like a leaf drifting upon the breeze, moving to its currents, a slave, though happily, to its will. Arwen opened her eyes and realised why it was she felt so at peace. The place around her allowed for nothing else and its beauty unlocked her heart in the way nothing had since she had left her beloved Estel and embarked upon this important quest. In her lungs, she discovered upon her first breath awake, was the scent of the Wood, heady and sweet. It reminded her of childhood, of running through glens covered with mallos, of becoming lost in a sea of the golden colored flowers. She used to believe that the sun had bled onto the earth whenever she saw them. Yet as she sat up in her comfortable bed, she knew that she was not in a dream but a place that might have been carved out of one.

Lothlorien.

They had arrived in the realm of Galadriel in the small hours of the night, exhausted and weary of their journey from Minas Tirith. Eowyn had been taken away almost as soon as they had arrived, the Shield Maiden of Rohan protesting vehemently that she did not need aid even though the poison of the spiders she had battled and killed was almost certainly in her veins from her wound. In the end, Arwen convinced her to go to the House of Healing, to rest and be well so that they may begin again their journey towards Lindon. Galadriel was still at Minas Tirith but the Lord of Lothlorien and Arwen's grand sire, Celeborn was present.

She woke up to find him seated next to her bed, watching her as if he had done so for a long while. While Galadriel was more concerned over matters beyond Lothlorien, Celeborn’s interest were mostly focused inward, upon the realm he governed and those who were a part of it. She was certain that he knew each one of the elves inhabiting the wood as more than just their Lord but as their friend. When she was a child visiting, she was always a little in awe of her grandmother but Celeborn had always seemed more approachable and she recalled going on many trips with him through the wood as he taught her all he knew. She loved him almost as much as she did Estel and her father.

"Have you been there all night?" She asked reproachfully when she noticed.

"No," he smiled warmly, pleased to see that she was well. He had watched her for some hours now, wondering where that delightful child that had spend so many summers with him had disappeared. Even though she had grown into the fairest elf maiden in Middle Earth, Celeborn would always see her as that little girl who delighted him so. "Merely a few hours."

"You did not come to the celebration," Arwen accused with a hint of disappointment.

"I did not wish to," Celeborn volunteered and Arwen saw a flicker of something in his eyes.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked anxiously as she started to rise from her bed.

"You are able to answer that better than I," he replied staring at her.

Arwen looked away, realizing that he knew the reason she was here. "You know then?"

"That there is an Enemy with designs on your child, my great grandson? Yes, I know," Celeborn answered and there was bitterness in his voice as well as anger.

"I have to stop it," she swallowed thickly. "I cannot allow this to happen to my child or to the people of Middle Earth if he is born with Melkor’s spirit."

"I know," he reached for her and placed his hand on her cheek. "I did not come because I was angry with your grandmother. I thought you should have been told about the Enemy before this."

"She had no choice in the matter," Arwen argued. "I know she did not endanger my life on purpose."

"She did not," Celeborn softened a little, having no wish for Arwen to believe that of Galadriel. "I knew her purpose was to set you on your present course and as much as I know you will conquer what awaits you, you are my granddaughter and I fear for you. I would have preferred if you had embarked upon this with Aragorn at your side."

"But he could be endangered," Arwen pointed out. As much as she loved Celeborn for thinking so much about her, she wanted Aragorn to have no part of her quest, if his life could be lost as a result.

"So could you," Celeborn returned. "You have chosen a mortal life and that means you could die too. I would not have forced you into such a choice."

"Are you angry with Galadriel for setting me upon this quest?" She looked at him with dismay. She had no wish to be the rift that came between the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien.

"Not angry," he lied to her because he knew it would cause her distress if he told her the truth. "Disappointed."

"Please," she placed her hand on his shoulder. "I made my own choice. Do not be angry with her because of me."

"It is not just this one thing Arwen," Celeborn confessed, glad that she was here so that he could talk about it openly. Being the Lord of Lothlorien required that he keep much of his true feelings to himself. "Galadriel wishes to leave Lothlorien for the Undying Lands. I am not ready to depart."

"Yes," Arwen replied, nodding slowly. She knew all too well what he spoke of. Many of the elves were now speaking of leaving for the West, her father too. Because of her choice to live a mortal life with Estel, she would not be making that journey. While she regretted nothing in the choosing of this decision because she loved Estel, she could not help feeling a terrible sadness when she thought on the time she would the last elf on these shores. Even Legolas would go some day, though Arwen suspected it would not be until all the mortals he cherished so much were gone into the afterlife.

When her father had come to Minas Tirith, she suspected he had done so because he knew it might be the last time he would ever see her. For all her delirium about his being a grandfather, she knew he was already preparing to leave Rivendell permanently and would probably never see her son. When they had met each other in the palace, she could see the weariness in his eyes from the preparation and also the sadness beneath the joy he felt for her. She knew that if it were not so, he would merely have sent good tidings with her brothers Elladan and Elrohir. Yet he had come himself and Arwen knew it was not merely to share the celebration with her but it was also his way of saying goodbye.

It would be this way with Galadriel and Celeborn too. No matter how much she loathed to think of it, Arwen had come to the conclusion that it was inevitable.

"I enjoy this world," he gazed out the window at the beauty of Lothlorien and she could see real love glistening in his eyes for not just the wood but what lay beyond. "I enjoy travelling to Rivendell and Mirkwood, I would even like to see Minas Tirith one day but I am not ready for the Undying Lands. Not yet."

"You plan to remain if Galadriel leaves?" Arwen asked somewhat surprised. It was not unheard of, of course. When her mother had been hurt, Celebrian had sailed to the Undying Lands, waiting the day when her father would join her on the Western Shore.

"I think so," Celeborn nodded and then met her eyes. "I have not told her yet."

Arwen drew a deep breath and wondered how Galadriel would take that news. Arwen was unable to imagine the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien apart. They had always been two halves of the same entity. Yet, she knew that hearts could change and though she did not like to be aware of it, Celeborn was angry at his wife and with elves, such anger could last the duration of some men’s lifetimes. As much as the thought of him remaining in Middle Earth pleasured her, Arwen knew that it was a selfish desire and felt that she ought to say something to ensure that this course he chosen was for the right reasons and not merely out of anger.

"Are you certain of this grandfather?" She asked, using a more personal title. "I know that you are angered over Galadriel’s conduct in this but I do not blame her and you may take comfort that I believe what she has done is right. I love you dearly for your concern but if your anger is for my welfare, you need not trouble yourself."

"I am certain of much more than my anger," Celeborn smiled warmly, mindful of what she was attempting to do and loving her all the for it. "I have thought upon this deeply since her departure to the White City and I know that though separation will be hard, for we have been husband and wife for so long, I think it will in the end do us both good."

Arwen nodded somberly, realizing that she could not sway him from his decision and upon further thought, decided that she should not. It was his choice to make. She could not deny that she was happy that he would not disappear from her life as the others would soon do but she was also sad that Galadriel would travel to the Western Shore alone.

"How is Eowyn?" Arwen asked after a lengthy pause in an effort to put the subject behind them.

"She is well," Celeborn replied, having asked to be appraised regarding the Lady of Ithilien’s condition for he knew Arwen would want to know how she fared. "She is exceedingly stubborn. I thought Aragorn was difficult to treat, I daresay she is almost as adverse to the belief of her injury."

"Warriors often are," Arwen smiled, picturing in her mind’s eyes the consternation Eowyn would have probably caused amongst the elven physicians in the House of Healing. "She is a good friend and has already saved my life once on this quest."

"I do not doubt that," Celeborn responded. "She believes she is ready to travel."

"Is she?" Arwen raised a brow at that because Eowyn’s determination to be of aide to her overrode the Shield Maiden’s good sense at times.

"Her wound is healing and I do not believe we can keep her here. She has been treated and though the healers would prefer her to rest, I also think they would be happy to be rid of her and the aggravation."

Arwen chuckled and let out a heavy breath, "I shall speak to her myself and if she is as ready as she claims then I would impose upon you grandfather for some horses."

"You will be continuing your journey?" Celeborn asked, feeling a little disappointed that she could not stay for another night but understood the urgency of her mission and her desire to continue as soon as possible.

"Yes," she answered thinking already on the route they would take upon leaving Lothlorien. "I cannot afford to delay my progress to the north. If Eowyn is well enough to travel, we will make for Rivendell."

"You are going to climb the Misty Mountains?" He looked at her skeptically. "In your condition?"

"I think I should be able to manage. We elves have far better agility over the snow than the race of men. I should be able to traverse it in a day or so."

She noticed a frown on Celeborn’s face as she mentioned the mountains, which immediately gave her cause for concern. "You seemed worried," she remarked.

"We have heard news from the mountains," Celeborn confessed after a minute of hesitation of trying to decide whether or not his fears were unfounded and motivated by his desire for her to remain in the Wood or was there really something to fear in the Misty Mountains.

"What sort of news?" She stared at him.

"News that some of the travelers crossing the mountains are not always seen again," he admitted reluctantly.

"What has befallen them?" Arwen asked anxiously, not wishing to deter from her chosen course but not wishing to rush headlong into danger either. After what they had seen at Cadras Nar, it was obvious that there was still enough darkness in Middle Earth to warrant caution.

"We are not certain, those sent to find them never return either," Celeborn replied.

"But some have crossed safely?" She questioned, not wishing to be frightened off on so little information.

"Some have," Celeborn replied. "But do you really want to risk the danger?"

"I am already in danger," Arwen sighed. "And I grow more so the longer I am kept from completing my quest. I must at least try to cross the mountains before I abandon the idea."

Celeborn nodded, conceding that he would not be able to convince her otherwise. She was like her father, strong willed and determined. He had to trust that she would find a way.

"The Lord of Lothlorien is at your service Evenstar," he said finally. "Whatever you need, we will provide it if we are able."

"Thank you," Arwen embraced him warmly, grateful that he was here and would be for some time to come.

* * *

Celeborn had been correct, Eowyn was eager to leave by the time Arwen finally found her. The Lady of Ithilien despised being fretted upon by healers, no matter how injured she was. From the time she had been a visitor to the House of Healing during the War of the Ring, she had abhorred being reminded that she had fallen in battle by having others fuss over her injuries. The only good thing that had ever come of her stay at one of these places was her meeting Faramir. However, this occasion was not going to engender any pivotal encounters such at that. What fired her ire more was that she had heard the tales of Lothlorien and had long yearned to walk through its enchanted realm. It did not seem fair that she was trapped in a bed when she could be seeing it for herself.

"Are you often so disagreeable?" Haldir asked after Eowyn had sent one of the maids trying to tend her wounds after her clothes instead.

Eowyn had never met Haldir, though she knew of him from her conversations with Arwen and Legolas. Like all the elves of Lothlorien, his hair was fair gold and it hung about his shoulders either loose or in a braid. His features were not as fine as Legolas and to her he seemed older, though it was difficult to say for certain with elves. His tone however was patronizing and that immediately brought out the worst in Eowyn.

"Only when I am forced to stay in bed over injuries that are inconsequential to me," she retorted, waiting impatiently for her clothes to arrive. At the present, she was clad in a simple white shift and felt all the more self-conscious for it.

"You are still injured. You should rest," he pointed out, standing by the door with his arms folded. His gaze was one of reproach, like she was a child and upon further thought Eowyn supposed she was in comparison to him but she did not like being reminded of it.

"I was injured," she corrected him, "but I am well now and I need no other treatment. What healing I endure after Lothlorien will take place on route, I do not need to be in a bed for that."

"You are travelling with the Evenstar," Haldir stated firmly. "She requires protection from what awaits her at the end of her quest. You only endanger her by your stubbornness."

Eowyn bristled at the accusation. She did not like this elf nor the assumption he made that she would place her own needs above that of Arwen’s. "If I were not a lady Sir, I would knock you off your feet for that insult."

Haldir straightened up in outrage at her statement, "I merely state the obvious," he said haughtily. "If anything befalls the Evenstar in this quest, or should she fall to the machinations of the Enemy then we will all suffer. Does that not warrant you behaving sensibly?"

"I am behaving sensibly," she retorted. "This thing that will happen to the babe inside Arwen will take place at the next full moon. If you do not mind, I would rather that we fulfil our task well before that. I would leave nothing to chance when it comes to Arwen or her baby’s safety. I am injured yes, but the one to best judge how I will be capable of tolerating those wounds is me, not you."

"This will not do," Haldir looked at her coldly. "The Evenstar should have a proper escort, not a…" he faltered when he saw that he was about to say something unforgivable.

"A woman?" She strode towards him, full of anger and more than prepared to express it.

"Haldir," Arwen’s voice filled the room and they both turned to see Arwen entering the room with Eowyn’s travelling clothes in her arm. "I think that will be all."

"I was…."

"I am well aware of what you were doing," Arwen replied with such glacial hardness to her voice, that it was easy to believe then that she was a queen. "I thank you for your concern and bid you to leave us, the Lady Eowyn needs to be dressed as we will soon be leaving."

Haldir appeared as if he wanted to respond but since much of his conversation with Eowyn had been heard by Arwen, there was little he could but to withdraw. It was just as well for Arwen did not think that Eowyn would have been able to restrain her displeasure much longer.

When he was gone, Arwen turned to Eowyn and sighed, "I suppose that you are well enough to travel then."

Eowyn let out a slight laugh and responded, "yes, I do think I am."

"You must forgive Haldir," Arwen replied after Eowyn had liberated the elf of her clothes and readied herself to leave. "He is very proud and he does take his duty to protect the Lady and her kinsman very seriously."

"You forgot arrogant," Eowyn muttered as she pulled on her breeches. "I see now why Legolas describes him as an acquaintance."

"Legolas was always too polite to draw an accurate description." Arwen smiled before noting the injury on Eowyn’s shoulder as she pulled off the shift. "Are you certain that you are fit to continue?"

"I am fine," Eowyn assured her. "I am not about to single handedly fight Sauron or an army of Uruk Hai but I am certainly fit to ride. I can heal on the way."

"I will trust you on that," Arwen stared at her critically. "With everything else that is happening to me of late, the last thing I would require is for you to drop dead from exhaustion or some other malaise because of your stubbornness to aid me in this quest."

"If it soothes you somewhat, I will not drop dead, I will faint gracefully from exhaustion."

"Thank you," Arwen retorted giving her a look of sarcasm as Eowyn grinned. "That does me a world of good."

* * *

 

Celeborn had been true to his word and had furnished Arwen and Eowyn with horses and supplies for their journey northward. At their farewell, Haldir had been present, his face a mask of dislike as he saw Eowyn riding at Arwen’s side. For most part, Eowyn handled his hostility and lack of confidence in her abilities well enough but Arwen could see that she was still rather incensed. Arwen however, was sad to say goodbye to Celeborn for she had a premonition that the next time they came upon each other, things would have changed greatly. She did not know how she knew this with such certainty, but as she cast him a final look as he waved her goodbye, Arwen knew that it would be the last time she viewed him as Lord of Lothlorien.

They traveled away from Lothlorien towards the Misty Mountains, a course Eowyn was still unhappy to take because of Arwen’s condition. She knew the journey would be longer but a day or two down the range of the mountains would find them an easier way to reach their destination. However, Arwen would have none of it. She was determined to cross and since Moria was no longer an option, Eowyn had little choice but to obey. From all accounts the bridge at Khazadum had been destroyed and while Gimli and the dwarves had vanquished much of the Orcs that had overrun Moria, it was not to say that they were all gone.

From Lothlorien, the journey to the Misty Mountains required almost two days of constant travel. Fortunately for them, their travel was without incident and there was ample opportunity to take in the magnificent range of mountains as they neared it. The Misty Mountains bordered the valleys where Rivendell was located and for many ages had kept the Hobbits in the Shire beyond the reach of Mordor and other elements of darkness. As they approached it, there was none of the inhospitable weather that had beleaguered the Fellowship when they had tried to reach Mordor. The snow covered peaks appeared still and while Arwen had no desire to attempt the crossing over those points in the mountain, she could not help being moved by its resplendent beauty.

In the meantime, Eowyn continued to be mindful of her injuries and though it had been difficult for her to ride during the first hours of their departure from Lothlorien, the maid of Rohan bore it nonetheless. Arwen was aware of her attempts to hide her weariness and often feigned needing rest herself when she saw Eowyn was in need of it, just so that he companion would agree to pause. Arwen loved her for this effort and knew that if she succeeded in her quest, it would owe a great deal to Eowyn’s conduct in this. Arwen wondered why not more women chose to take up arms as Eowyn had. The elves were not so against their females bearing weapons as immortality brought with it certain wisdom. However, it was not the same with the race of men. They preferred their women weak, gentle and defenseless. More should follow Eowyn’s example for it was perfectly obvious to Arwen that they were more than equal to the task if Eowyn was any basis for comparison.

It was almost nightfall when they finally reached the pass they would have to traverse to cross the mountain and both women were exhausted from being in a saddle for almost the entire day. Neither disagreed with one another when the suggestion was brought forth of making camp that night. Celeborn had included in their stores, some  _lembas_  and they ate around the warm fire, wondering how far they would have to continue tomorrow in order to reach the pass that would take them through the mountains. Little was said of the quest, though both of them were thinking constantly upon it.

Arwen’s thoughts were mostly preoccupied with Aragorn and how he would have taken the news of her departure. No doubt, Galadriel would have explained things once he discovered her gone but Arwen was certain that he would not understand. It did not help that she missed him terribly and each day apart made her long for her king. It was foolishness, this pining for him. It was not as if they had never been apart before. Prior to their marriage, he was always travelling from place to place and his time with her only came in between his adventures. She wished she could have been like any new mother with the freedom to enjoy the arrival of her babe but she could not. All she could feel was this terrible weight pressing down on her soul that demanded her completion of her quest or it would cost her everything she held dear. It was not fair.

Fortunately, Arwen knew in her lengthy existence that life was seldom fair in anything.

Eowyn’s worries were a great deal different to Arwen’s. What Faramir felt about her leaving, Eowyn would find out when she saw him face to face again. Eowyn was too practical to torture herself with how her beloved might behave in this situation. She had larger concerns on her mind, concerns that she dared not voice to the Queen of Gondor for fear of how she would react to them. Eowyn’s fears were centered upon the time they were allowed to reach the Blue Mountains in order to prevent Arwen’s unborn child from being affected by Melkor’s essence.

Galadriel had told them that they had until the next full moon to reach the Enemy. It had been that when they departed Minas Tirith and it had taken them four days to travel to Lothlorien. It would take another four days to reach Rivendell after they breached the mountain. If they had been on foot, the journey would take six days. As Eowyn calculated the days, she knew that they could not afford delay. Part of the reason she was so adamant about leaving Lothlorien was because she knew that they could not waste one second if they aimed to reach the Enemy before it was too late. After crossing the mountains, they would need to pass Rivendell, then Shire before reaching the place known as the Grey Havens. From there, they would take the river into the heart of the Blue Mountains that would take them to sea.

After that, Eowyn had little idea what would transpire next or how long it would take to accomplish it. Galadriel’s instructions had been vague at best and what Eowyn feared the most was if they had long to travel once they arrived at the Blue Mountains, they may not be able to reach the enemy before the full moon. That thought alone sent fear into her heart not merely for the babe and for all of Middle Earth should the child be born with Melkor’s spirit, but what Arwen herself would do to keep a second darkness from befalling the land. The queen of Gondor was perhaps one of the strongest women she knew in spirit and a fierce desire to protect those she loved might force her to act irrationally.

Was it possible that might mean ending her life?

And should Eowyn stop her?

That was a possibility the Lady of Ithilien did not want to consider even for a second because it filled her heart with such dread that Eowyn could hardly breathe. Yet she was certain even if Arwen never said it to her directly, it was a course the queen might take if the situation gave her no alternative. Eowyn knew that Arwen might be strong enough to make such a sacrifice but what Eowyn did not know was whether or not she could stand by and let her friend do this terrible deed.

The answer to that question was something she never wanted to learn.

* * *

The raging wind in her ears and the sudden chill on her skin awoke Arwen from her slumber at their campsite at the foot of the Misty Mountains. The night before had shown them a canopy of stars ahead, a sure indicator that the day following it would be clear and good for travel. Yet as she opened her eyes and stared briefly at the sky, she saw only clouds of gray, allowing no sunshine to pass its thick cloak. The wind was whistling in her ears and she saw the trees swaying above head, bending to its will with each breath of the gale. Arwen sat up and saw Eowyn already awake, packing their things away in order to begin their travel or at the very least, seek shelter away form the tempest.

Arwen looked up at the top of the mountain and saw the higher reaches of it covered in sheets of snow. The wind was gently chipping away at its volume and she understood in an instant why Eowyn was so determined to get moving. If this storm were to grow any worse, it might conceivably precipitated an avalanche that would bury the passage way in snow and force them to take a different route. However, as she rose to her feet in order to help Eowyn with their rapid departure, Arwen sensed something ominous. It was the same feeling she had experienced in Cadras Nar, although there the danger had been more overt and did not require elven senses to detect.

"Eowyn," Arwen called out as she gathered her bedding and stumbled towards the Lady of Ithilien.

"We need to go," Eowyn said as soon as she saw Arwen approaching her. "That snow is going to come down soon. We need to pass or else we shall have to go around the mountain."

"There is something not right about all this," Arwen replied as she fell into Eowyn’s purposeful stride towards the horses.

"What do you mean?" Eowyn squinted at Arwen as she tried speaking over the wind.

"I do not believe this is natural," Arwen explained as they reached the horses that were growing agitated at the worsening weather.

"It is a storm," Eowyn retorted not understanding, "it is unfortunate but storms are a part of life. They happen."

"Not this one," Arwen interjected. "Trust my word sister, there is something amiss."

Arwen did not use the word ‘sister’ often but when she did, it was because she was earnest in her desire to convince Eowyn of some truth the latter could not see.

"I believe you Arwen," Eowyn replied honestly. "But what is to be done? We must cross that breach."

She was right. If the forces of nature did not create this storm, it still did not alter the fact that they had to cross through the pass between the mountain. Arwen argued no more with Eowyn and they both quickly mounted their horses and rode towards the pass, ignoring the growing intensity of the wind and the falling of snow that was turning the clarity of their path into a vague, indistinct fog. The nearer they drew to the pass, the more Arwen became disturbed by what she was sensing. Something terrible loomed in the passageway, something that was going to harm them. She wanted to turn back but Eowyn was right, they needed to make the crossing.

Inside the small canyon that had been carved through the mountain by years of erosion by water or some other force, Arwen swallowed thickly as they moved deeper and deeper into its confines. The comforting sight of dirt and soil disappeared for the thick cover of snow and the horses grew just as anxious as she. Eowyn lead the way, aware that this leg of their journey was worrying Arwen and she went ahead to show the queen that there was nothing to fear, though she did not exactly discount Arwen’s belief of danger.

They were less than a quarter of the way through when suddenly, she heard Arwen cry out behind her. Eowyn brought her mount to an immediate halt and looked over her shoulder. The elf’s features were contorted in fear and sent tendrils of alarm through the warrior maiden. "What is it?"

"Something is here," Arwen said looking about her, trying to find something that could convince Eowyn as well as herself that they should leave here while they still could.

"Where?" Eowyn asked automatically, her hand reaching for her sword.

"I don’t know," Arwen cried out in frustration. "But I can feel it."

Eowyn would have liked something more tangible then that and she swept her gaze across the canyon way to find something that would give truth to Arwen’s premonitions. There was nothing at first, not until she looked closely and saw that the canyon was littered with rocks and boulders of varying sizes. This in itself was nothing out of the ordinary, since rocks and boulders were to be expected when one was travelling through a mountain. But upon closer observation, there were jagged and sharp, not at all smoothed from years of erosion. The look of them made her dismount the horse, uncertain whether her need to investigate was inspired by Arwen’s warning or because she herself was starting to see something odd.

"What have you found?" Arwen asked, still gripped with this feeling of foreboding.

"These rocks," Eowyn looked ahead and then behind her on the path they had taken to this very spot. "Why are they only here?"

Arwen realised that Eowyn was right, behind them the path was clear. There were rocks but these were formations that had been there for quite some time and had blended in with the landscape through the ages. However the collection that Eowyn viewed with such anxiousness bore no such unity with the terrain, they seemed out of place and they were broken as if dwarves had chosen to split them apart with their heavy axes. She looked further into the canyon and saw that in the distant end of the passage, the path once again cleared. The collection of rocks and boulders seemed specific only to their immediate location.

She shivered and it was not because the wind was heavy and blowing at her skin with force or because of the snow flakes that had covered the terrain after being dislodged from their perch above that she pulled her cloak nearer to her body. She stared up at the uneven edge of the mountain above their heads and could only see the raging blizzard of snow and wind. Yet every sense that she possessed told her that this was not right, that the sudden emergence of this storm was by the design of something other nature.

"Eowyn, I think we should take another route."

Eowyn stared at her sharply. "Arwen that will place undue burden on our journey, it could mean a delay of a day perhaps more."

"I know," she replied anxiously, "but I do not make this request lightly. We should go now."

The fear Eowyn saw in Arwen’s eyes was real and though she did not wish to waste time by finding another way around the mountain, there was something about this whole situation that was cause for disquiet. After a moment, she decided that if Arwen thought that there was peril lying in the route before them, then they should leave. She trusted her friend’s instincts. She stepped away from the rocks when her foot struck something underfoot. It did not make the sound of rock but rather something much harder. Arwen had heard it too for her brow had knotted in confusion as to what that could be. Eowyn lowered herself to the ground and saw the irregular shape her foot had struck, concealed by a thin layer of snow.

She had only to brush it aside when she found herself staring at a skull. Judging by the size of it, probably a dwarf’s. She staggered back in shock and slipped on the ice, landing heavily on her rear.

"Eowyn!" Arwen called out, dismounting her animal immediately and running to the shield maiden’s side.

"What is it?"

Eowyn would have answered except that when she looked at where she had landed, she noticed another pile of bones, covered by the sand. She let out a short cry of shock as she scrambled away.

"I think you are correct," Eowyn said in a hasty breath as she hurried to meet Arwen. "I think we should leave now."

"There are bones everywhere," Arwen said as she stared at the snow she had just cleared away underfoot. At first she thought she was standing on gravel but that was not all. The canyon was a veritable tomb. Suddenly, she remembered what had Celeborn had said about travelers who had vanished trying to cross the Misty Mountains. They could be standing on the edge of why that was. "Something in there is killing travelers, I think we should leave while we still can."

"I will never question you again," Eowyn declared as both women hurried to their horses and mounted.

They started riding out of the canyon, not even looking back and grateful that they had come to their senses before it was too late. Neither knew what form of creature had caused so many to die in that narrow expanse but Arwen was grateful that they would not be finding out first hand. They galloped hard through the pass, paying no heed to the gale that was lashing at them or the unearthly howl that ripped through their ears when they departed. It could have been the wind by somehow Arwen was not so certain of that. As they reached the mouth of the passage and saw the land beyond the Misty Mountains, Arwen felt a great flood of relief wash over her that for the moment at least the danger had passed.

The thought had no sooner crossed her mind when suddenly; something tore her from the saddle of her horse. She let out a small cry of shock but it was eclipsed by Eowyn’s own shout of outrage as she endured the same occurrence. There was little time to think as Arwen saw the ground come up to swallow her. All she could do to protect her child was to curl her body into a ball and hope that would be enough to lessen the impact of her landing. She hit the ground hard and though she was certain that her positioning had saved the slumbering babe in her womb, she was helpless to prevent the black fog that descended upon her moments later where she knew nothing else.

* * *

"Lady," she heard Eowyn’s insistent voice prodding her into consciousness. "Lady!"

There was a moment of confusion when Arwen opened her eyes and felt the dirt scrapping against her cheek, when she wondered where she was. The voice calling her was familiar and only when her senses returned to her, did she realize that it was Eowyn calling her. Starlight flooded her eyes, the glare of awakening settling the blur before her into more familiar shapes. She saw night sky filtering through the canopy of trees above her and heard voices that upon meeting her recognition brought Arwen abruptly back to her senses. Arwen started to sit up but was hampered by the fact that her hands were tied. She would have descended into panic at the realization of this if not for the fact that it would avail her nothing.

Arwen did not know where they were but it was clear that they were deep within the woods. She had no sense of time and that frightened her more, not knowing how long she had been unconscious. She could smell smoke close by and upon investigation, saw that it came from the fire of the camp they were in. Sitting above the flames was a cooking pot; its contents simmering with heat and a stench that turned her delicate stomach. There were at least a dozen of them moving about the campsite, some were guarding her and Eowyn, the rest were more interested in picking clean the contents of their saddle bags.

"Are you hurt?" She heard Eowyn whisper quietly.

"No," Arwen shook her head as she gazed upon the Lady of Ithilien, who was seated before her cross-legged, her arms bound behind her. A streak of blood ran down Eowyn’s face, the cause being the angry gash slashed across here forehead. "Are you?"

"It is appears worse than it is," Eowyn replied dismissively because they had larger concerns at the moment.

"How long have I been unconscious?" Arwen asked as she attempted to shake the disorientation out of her head.

"A few hours," Eowyn answered, watching their jailers cautiously. Their lives hung on a knife’s edge at this moment and lest she found a way to free them both; neither would survive the night. "I feared that you were injured far worse than appeared."

"My strength is not what it used to be," Arwen explained breathless, her eyes following the proceedings in the campsite with as much caution as Eowyn. "Carrying a babe is tiring work but I am well enough."

"Good," Eowyn spoke quietly. "That is something at least."

One of their captors, noticing that Arwen was awake started towards them, his feet crushing the dead leaves beneath him as he barked the Black Speech of the Orcs to his brothers. Arwen felt her blood run cold as she saw the foul creature advance upon her, his terrible eyes full of purpose. She had seen Orcs in her time but in this situation, Arwen could not hide her disgust, especially when there would be no help for either herself or Eowyn from this ordeal. The Orcs fed on man flesh and what they did to women was too unspeakable to think of. The idea of what could befall them both, made Arwen’s heart pound even louder.

"They will ask your name, do not tell them." Eowyn instructed quickly before her words entered the hearing of the enemy.

The Orc paused before Arwen and hissed at her, its jagged teeth covered in filth borne like fangs. Arwen raised her chin in defiance of his attempt to scare her, refusing to allow this creature any more power over her then it already had. She wondered why they were not already dead. Orcs did not waste time with hostages. These were undoubtedly a renegade band left over from the War of the Ring and such Orcs usually waylaid helpless innocents for food or supplies. Arwen could not understand why she and Eowyn had been kept alive and being held prisoner. It was more expedient if they were to be killed for the Orcs would not have to worry about any attempt to escape or resistance to their will.

"Evenstar," he spoke the word and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end at its sinister delivery. "Which of you is the Evenstar?"

The question explained a great deal. These creatures were in search of her but one noble woman appeared more or less like another to them, they could not tell which of the prisoners was the one they sought. These Orcs were in the service of the Enemy that is why she and Eowyn were still alive. They dared not kill either one of them because they feared incurring their master’s wrath if they were wrong about the choice. As long as they did not know that she was the Evenstar and the object of their search, Eowyn’s life was safe.

"You can find that out yourself," Arwen returned sharply.

The Orc bellowed in rage at being refused and raised his hand to strike, when another of his party barked at him to stop. His hand paused in mid air and he snarled at her again in rage before turning away and returning to the horses. The two Orcs standing close by watched them closely.

"They’re preparing to move out," Eowyn explained.

"What happened?" She asked.

"They ambushed us as we attempted to leave the passage. I believe the storm allowed them to emerge into the day briefly in order to captures us. They tied a rope across the mouth of the pass and we rode straight into it. When I awoke, we were here. I am uncertain but they may have kept us in their lair until the night came so that they may venture out in preparation to depart."

"For where?" Arwen asked horrified by the notion of being taken anywhere by the foul creatures.

"Probably to the Enemy," Eowyn guessed. "They were most unhappy with me for not telling them my name, I think they hoped to feast upon one while travelling with the other."

Arwen’s stomach hollowed at the thought, aware that Orcs were infamous for being man-eaters. "Do you think they were responsible for the bodies we found?" Arwen inquired, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"No," Eowyn replied quietly, mindful that nothing she said was being overheard. "I don’t think so. The bones I saw did appear as such. Whatever happened to them was something else entirely. These Orcs have purpose in seeking us out. I believe they are sent here by the Enemy in order to bring you to them. If he has a palantir, he must know that you are no longer at Minas Tirith and moved to find you before you slipped out of his reach. If we allow them to take charge of us, it will take much longer to reach the Enemy because Orcs do not ride. We would be making the journey on foot."

"Then we must escape," Arwen declared without hesitation. "Somehow, we must find a way."

"I agree but that is easier said then done," Eowyn retorted even though she was slowly attempting to free herself of the ropes tied behind her back. It was not hard to do because the fingers of Orcs were far from nimble and their ability to tie ropes even less so. With time, she would not doubt be able to untangle the unruly cluster of knots that kept her bound. However, it remained to be seen whether or not they would have the time to spare. The Orcs before them were sharing a meal, no doubt the precursor to beginning their journey to the Enemy. Eowyn would prefer it if freedom came to herself and Arwen before that.

Or before the Orcs became hungry and threw caution to the winds by choosing one of them as a meal. 

* * *

The Ranger watched the proceedings through the trees as one of the two women made a furtive attempt to free herself while under the watchful gaze of the Orcs who had captured them. The warrior maiden was undoubtedly trying to loosen the ropes around her because the Ranger could read the subtle movements made by her body as she made the attempt. The Orcs were too unschooled in interpreting the body language of men to know what was transpiring before them but then there was little reason to fear the warrior woman’s freedom from her bonds. Why should they? There were many of them and one of her. Even if she should free herself, she was unarmed and her companion was still tied. It would be an exercise in futility that would no doubt get one or both of them killed.

The Ranger considered deeply what was to be done. The Orcs were preparing to leave with their captives, a happenstance that could not be good under any circumstances. The Ranger was somewhat confused by this action for Orcs were not known to take captives and since the fall of Isengard and Mordor alike, they served no master and were renegades hiding from the King’s forces. Whatever the reason for their unusual behavior, the Ranger had little choice but to act. If not for a chance discovery while travelling towards the lands beyond the Misty Mountains, the Ranger would have continued the journey unaware of the peril faced by the two women.

There were about a dozen Orcs, not a great many but certainly enough to give one who was preparing a rescue pause for a moment. Orcs were not to be taken lightly and while the warrior woman might be useful in the battle if it came to that, the other was still bound. No, the Ranger decided quickly, facing the Orcs and vanquishing them was out of the question, the best that could be hoped for was the safe retrieval of both followed by an extremely hasty flight away from the Orcs. Hopefully with all their skins intact.

The Ranger took a moment to grumble at the inconvenience of the situation. True, the women had to be helped but the Ranger had no time for this for another purpose was waiting for the Ranger’s attention. That purpose was by no means as urgent as the quandary in which the noblewomen found themselves, but it was no less important. Still, the Ranger was not the kind to ignore the distress of others, particularly when it involved Orcs. After dealing with the vile creatures for so many years, the Ranger knew exactly what fate awaited the two women if something was not done.

Death would actually be the more pleasant of the possibilities.

Taking a deep breath, the Ranger crept across the soft ground of the wood, careful not to make a sound that would alert the Orcs. The Ranger’s horse awaited not far away from the campsite and the rescue plan such as it was, required the animal’s participation. As the dark figure moved across the uneven trail through the trees, the Ranger named Melia removed the crossbow slung across her back. She loaded the weapon silently and reached the black mare waiting patiently for its mistress to return. The animal, acquired in Rohan for nowhere else were there horses finer, was accustomed to remaining silent for the purpose of its rider.

Melia ran her hand across the animal’s flank and whispered her gratitude for its silence into its ears before climbing into the saddle.

"Come along Lomelindi," Melia said quietly as she faced the Orc fire in the near distance, "we have Orc to hunt."

* * *

Eowyn was still as the night as her fingers worked deftly on the final knot. She had closed her eyes in concentration, focussing singularly on the purpose of freeing her hands. Arwen watched her surreptitiously, appearing anxious for the benefit of their captors and focussing their attention on her by asking questions that they were ignoring. Eowyn knew that she could not keep that course indefinitely because Orcs were not known for their temperament. While they may not be prepared to kill either of them for fear of their master, there was nothing to prevent them from harming them and Arwen was threading a thin line with her efforts.

Suddenly the Orc leader who had questioned them stared at Eowyn, his eyes widening in malice when he realised that she was up to something. Eowyn felt her heart sink with disappointment as the knot came apart in her fingers but would do her little good because she had been discovered. He cried out to the rest of his comrades as he strode towards her and Eowyn was filled with dismay to realise that all her hard work was for nothing. If they did not kill her for what she had done, they were certainly going to tie her up again and she would be right where she began.

"Do nothing," Eowyn commanded Arwen, forgetting for an instant who was Queen and who was not. "Do not interfere with them on my account."

"Do not ask that of me!" Arwen cried out desperately as Eowyn stood up to face the Orc coming towards her while the two guarding her brandished their swords in preparation for the order to run her through.

"Escape," the Orc sneered malevolently, his voice a cold hiss, when he reached her, grabbing her arm to confirm his suspicions that she had been attempting to escape. "Escape is pointless."

He raised his sword, readying himself to deliver a blow that while might not necessarily kill her, would disable her and ruin any chance she had of making another escape attempt. Eowyn wanted to run but she knew the weapons of the other two would end any flight before she even had a chance to take a step. She braced herself for the pain and felt anguish rise from the depths of her soul that she had failed her queen so utterly. However, she would not go down easily and not before making him sorry he had ever taken them prisoner.

However, there was little chance for the Orc to do anything because at that moment, a horse burst through the bushes, carrying a rider on its back as it landed a hair’s breath beyond the reach of the fire. Once his eyes and that of his minions turned to face this new threat, Eowyn acted swiftly. The edge of the palm slammed into the creature’s face and forced him to drop his sword, which Eowyn liberated swiftly enough before she tore open his belly with one swipe of the weapon. When the others heard the death cry of their leader, they turned back to her. Eowyn slashed at one of them while the other was halted in his step by the bolt of a crossbow.

"GET TO THE HORSES!" The rider astride the mare shouted as she trained her deadly aim upon the others Orcs.

It was a command that need not be made twice. Eowyn hurried to Arwen who had jumped to her feet following the sudden turn of events and quickly freed the Queen of Gondor from her bonds. Then both made their way swiftly to the horses, with Arwen staying close behind Eowyn as the Shield Maiden of Rohan hacked her way through anyone or anything attempting to prevent their departure. The Orcs were starting to regroup from the chaos running through their camp when Arwen and Eowyn reached their mounts. Their mysterious rescuer had almost exhausted her supply of bolts for her weapon.

"Let’s go!" Eowyn shouted as she dug her heels into her horse and the animal bolted forward.

Arwen did the same and the horse broke into a powerful gallop across the campsite. An Orc attempted to pull her out of the saddle but Arwen kicked out, smashing the ball of her foot against its mouth and feeling its teeth crumble underneath. The creature staggered back and Arwen dug her heels into her horse with even more strength, expressing the urgency of a hasty departure to the animal with that one command. The horse thundered forward, following Eowyn and also their rescuer into the forest with the swiftness of the wind. An arrow flew past her and she ducked, feeling relief when she saw it embed itself into a tree.

Arwen did not know how long they rode through the night, knowing only that they were putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the enemy while they were doing it. For a time it seemed as if they would never stop and if it were not for the fact that Orcs could not tame horses, they might not have. However, after what seemed to be an eternity of time, Arwen heard Eowyn’s call to her that they were going to stop. Arwen was grateful for the break though she was pleased they had put a good distance between themselves and the Orcs who would have surely killed Eowyn or done great harm to her if not for the timely arrival of their rescuer.

They came to a halt in a brook that was fed of the water of the Anduin, several leagues away from the Orc band. As Arwen dismounted her horse and led the exhausted animal to the water in order to drink, she felt a great sense of relief at the knowledge that for immediate present, they were safe. Their new companion had made no introductions, seeming more concerned with the plight of her mount then anything else. As Arwen approached, she noted the person to be about the same size as Eowyn with a slightness of frame and figure that was distinctly female.

"We are in your debt, lady," Arwen said upon reaching her.

The Ranger stood up and lowered the hood her cloak. Long, black hair spilled forth, framing a face whose skin was lightly bronzed and whose brown eyes stared at her with as much curiosity as Arwen was showing herself. Arwen had heard of people in the lands beyond the Inland Sea with coloring such as this but she had never seen it for herself. Her features were decidedly exotic, Arwen decided and she was fair, much too fair to be roaming the lands of Middle Earth alone. Arwen wondered who her people were and was genuinely curious to learn from where she had come.

"I am a Ranger in these parts, it is my duty to ensure that travelers are safe from Orcs," she answered Arwen with a slight bow. "This is the first time that I have ever rescued two noblewomen travelling alone. Should you not have escorts?"

"We have business that requires us to travel alone," Eowyn replied cautiously, even though the stranger had saved their lives.

"Then I would suggest you exercise some prudence," the woman retorted. "What happened back there could have been worse if I had not stumbled upon you."

"We would have found our way out of that predicament," Eowyn said defensively.

"Yes," the woman responded with no small amount of sarcasm. "I saw how well you were finding your way. Another minute more and your problems would have been ended permanently."

Eowyn was about to retaliate when Arwen stilled her with a look. "We are thankful for your assistance. We need to cross the Misty Mountains swiftly. If we cannot go through the pass, might there be another route that we might take?"

"You are wise to avoid the path," the Ranger said earnestly. "Many have died attempting to cross there."

"You know what happened to them?" Eowyn asked.

"No," she confessed. "But I have seen the bodies and I did not remain long enough to find out what killed them."

"That is probably wise," Arwen could not disagree with that course. "Can you help us then?"

"I can lead you across the mountain but that depends on where you need to go," she looked at them in question, wondering where these two noblewomen were headed to risk such danger as travelling alone.

Arwen and Eowyn exchanged glances, wondering whether or not they could trust this stranger. Unfortunately, they needed to continue their journey quickly and they could not afford to waste time searching for an alternate route if this Ranger had that information already. Finally Arwen nodded in Eowyn’s direction, giving her permission to speak about their intentions.

"We are travelling to the Blue Mountains," Eowyn said finally, realising they had no choice but to trust this stranger. "We need to get there well before the next full moon."

The Ranger sucked in her breath and stared at them in astonishment. "That is going to take some doing. It is a long journey and very little time in which to make it. Might I ask what is the purpose of such a trek?"

"It is safer if you do not know," Arwen replied before Eowyn could. "Except that it is a matter of great importance."

"It must be," the Ranger sighed, "if the Evenstar is making it."

Arwen stared at her. "You know who I am?"

"Yes," the Ranger nodded. "I visited Minas Tirith after the crowning of the King. I have seen you before."

"Then you will help us?" Eowyn asked, her distrust of this woman lessening because it appeared that the Ranger was wise and her skill might be useful to them in their quest. Besides, a woman who was willing to rescue strangers from the hands of Orcs could not be entirely without honor and there was a part of Eowyn who liked the fact that this Ranger was also so capable of defending herself like any other warrior.

"I will help you," the Ranger smiled as she saw Eowyn’s outstretched hand and took it. "Lady of Rohan."

"Call me Eowyn," Eowyn returned the smile in kind.

"What shall we call you?" Arwen asked, gladdened that Eowyn had relented in her distrust of the woman and Arwen sensed no danger from her.

"Melia," the Ranger replied. "My name is Melia."

"Welcome to our quest Melia," Eowyn said wryly. "Let us hope you do not live to regret it."


	6. The Road to the Shire

Their new companion, Arwen and Eowyn learnt when they resumed their journey, did not seem eager to speak about her origins.

She was a curious sort, clearly not from this part of Middle Earth, for her appearance spoke of the lands to the far south where few had traveled. Following the destruction of Numenor, those scattered remnants of that men had sought new homes in Middle Earth and through that quest had established the kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor, Rohan and Ithilien but to name a few. However, there were tales of those who had gone beyond the borders of Mordor, had sailed the inland sea to the distant lands of Far Harad. They had slipped beyond the reach of the known world and what befell them there was difficult to say. If this stranger had come from those faraway lands than she had been travelling for a great many years.

Arwen sensed no danger from her however and it was this feeling that stayed her suspicion about Melia. What quest had brought Melia to this part of the world was something the Ranger felt no inclination to tell other than the fact that at some point during her travels, she had joined the Rangers and became duty bound to patrol and protect the lands of Angamar. What she was doing here on the other side of the Misty Mountains instead of carrying out that task, Melia did not say other than she had been returning to Angamar when she stumbled upon the party of Orcs who held Arwen and Eowyn captive.

Arwen knew that Estel had acquired many new Rangers to protect the lands surrounding the Shire from Orcs or any other threat that might befall that gentle race. Before the War of the Ring, hardly anyone had known about the existence of the halflings. They were almost as steeped in legend as the One Ring. Since the defeat of Sauron had come at the hands of a hobbit, most people knew in some part about them now and Elessar feared that Orcs, seeking retribution for the destruction of their master, might be inclined to attack the peaceful communities in the Shire.

Becoming King did not absolve Aragorn of the oath he had made to Frodo Baggins that day in Rivendell when the Fellowship was formed. He would protect Frodo and all the hobbits until the breath left his body and Arwen would always adore him for that.

They had been travelling most of the night to find lesser known paths that would take them through the mountains. Melia seemed to know the land well and Arwen was confident that they would be able to make up for the time they had lost during their capture. It was only a few short hours before dawn and they were far enough away from the Orcs to be certain they were safe for time being. The party was weary from their flight and the horses, too, needed watering and rest. Melia led them to the small stream she knew in the wood beyond the mountain range, confident that they could rest there without being set upon by anymore of the Enemy’s agents.

"We should resume our journey at day break," Eowyn suggested as they set up their small but discreet camp.

"Are you determined to travel through Rivendell?" Melia asked because she knew that time was a great concern to the Queen and her companion.

"I had hoped to see Imladris," Arwen answered honestly. "My brothers were unable to journey to the White City with my father as they were needed to continue the efforts for their departure to the Undying Lands. I wanted to see them before they left."

"That is understandable," Melia replied. "But if you wish to reach your destination within the time allotted to you, it would save a number of days if we did not pause at Rivendell and continue onwards. We could make Bree in four days from here."

Arwen’s heart sank because she did so want to see her brothers again. If she missed the opportunity to see them during the quest, Arwen did not think there would be another. Her father had come specifically to the celebration at Gondor to say his farewells for he knew that once he set sail for the Undying Lands, their paths would never meet again. She would go the way of mortals, passing into the great mystery to which not even the Elves could venture. Arwen had accepted that such was the choice she had made to be with her beloved Estel but she could not help feeling this terrible sadness at the knowledge that in doing so, she would lose so many that meant so much to her.

However, she could not lose the child inside of her either and if that meant being denied the chance of visiting Rivendell one last time, Arwen could accept it. Furthermore, she added secretly to herself as she made the decision that she had yet to tell either Eowyn and Melia, that if they survived the quest, there was no reason why they could not break their journey home at Rivendell to see her brothers. The delay was something she could endure for the safety of her baby.

"We will make for Bree," Arwen finally answered Melia who was waiting for her response.

"Are you certain?" Eowyn looked up from the fire where she had been preparing their meal. "I know you wished to see Ellandan and Elrohir before they departed Rivendell."

Arwen drew a deep breath, forcing herself to remain true to her decision because she knew it would take little to convince her to do as her heart wanted. "Melia is correct, we would save several days if we were to continue past Rivendell. We have little time to spare as it is."

"Agreed," Eowyn smiled, seeing the pain in her eyes but gladdened that they were making the sensible decision.

"I will take first watch," Melia offered as Eowyn distributed the meal she had made from what few stores were left on the horses that had not been plundered by the Orcs.

"Wake me when you’re ready for some rest," Eowyn answered as they sat down to share the meager repast.

"Tell me," Melia looked up at Arwen after a few minutes of silent dining, "what brings the Queen of the Re-Unified Lands to the edge of Middle Earth?"

Eowyn glanced immediately at Arwen, wondering whether or not the queen would answer the Ranger’s question. Although Eowyn trusted Melia to a point, she was uncertain whether or not the Ranger should be told the purpose of their quest. She knew that Arwen considered Melia no danger but Eowyn was not about to place too much faith on the accuracy of elvish senses. Melia had also been strangely quiet about her reasons for being near the Misty Mountains instead of Angamar where a Ranger of her calling should have been. However, the choice was not hers to make. It was Arwen’s.

"Why were you at the Misty Mountains?" Arwen asked as if she had read Eowyn’s mind regarding Melia’s presence among them.

Melia let out a heavy sigh and understood by the queen’s question that she would have to yield a little if she wish to earn their trust.

"I was searching for my mother," Melia answered after a long pause and judging by the reluctance in which she volunteered the information, Arwen and Eowyn guessed that the matter was intensely difficult for her to confide in others. "My father visited these lands in his youth where he met my mother who apparently lived along the banks of the Anduin River. They were together for a time but after I was born, my mother grew weary of being wife to a husband and a mother to a child and left us. Eventually, he returned to his people and I was raised in the south. He told me little about her and when he passed on I felt that I had to find her. I travel between Angamar and the Anduin every few months, hoping to find her while serving as a Ranger."

"Would it be simpler to continue the search instead of moving back and forth from Angamar?" Eowyn asked.

Melia allowed herself a little smile because Eowyn of all people would understand her reasons. "There are not many Ranger captains that will accept a woman to be counted in his ranks. The captain of the Rangers in Angamar is a good and fair man. He knows my ability and judges me by that and is not influenced by my sex to decide whether or not I am good enough to be a Ranger."

"Such men are rare," Eowyn agreed readily, understanding now the smile on Melia’s lips when she had asked her question. "But they exist."

"The Anduin is a great river," Arwen pointed out. "Your search may take years."

"I know," Melia nodded, not blinded by that reality for one instant. "I joined the Rangers for they are the eyes and ears of Middle Earth. They can help me in my search."

"What do you know of your mother?" Arwen asked because she had lived for nearly three thousand years and there was not an inch of the Anduin that she had not at one point or another traveled even if her memories were somewhat out of date.

"Very little," Melia confessed although Arwen sensed that she was at the limits of how much she was willing to impart to them about her purpose. Arwen could understand her reluctance. It was a deeply personal issue for her and Melia appeared to have spent many years searching for her mother, a search that was no doubt fraught with disappointment and frustration. Such emotional hardship must have made it difficult for her to make friendships or confide in others.

"I know that she is of a people who used to dwell along the river and that there were not many of them," Melia continued to speak. "Her name was Ninuie."

"I do believe that is an Elvish name," Arwen replied, "the Grey Elves to be certain. Have you sought her among the elves that dwell along the river? They may know of her in Lothlorien or perhaps even the elves of Mirkwood."

"Perhaps you are right," Melia absorbed her suggestion. "For now however, I would like to know why it is you are journeying so far north."

Now that Melia had told them the truth about her origins and Arwen could sense the sincerity of her words, even if they were shrouded in ambiguity, she could not deny the Ranger the same courtesy. It seemed only fair since now that Melia had become their guide in the northlands, she was at the same risk as they to the perils the Enemy would send against them.

"I am on a quest," Arwen said finally and saw the surprise in the Ranger’s eyes at the statement.

"A quest?" Melia remarked with some astonishment. "Since when is it the duty of the queen to embark upon quests? Is that not the duty of the king or some other warrior in his service?"

"This is a quest that I alone can fulfil," Arwen explained somberly. "Eowyn accompanies me because she is too good a friend to let her queen face danger alone but this is an endeavor that requires my presence and no other."

"I am a Ranger in the service of the King," Melia declared, her own intuition telling her that this quest that the queen was embarking upon was no small thing, not if Orcs were now moved to take hostages. "You have my solemn oath that what you say to me remains with me until death, I will not reveal a word of what is said unless you permit it."

"Thank you," Arwen smiled faintly, believing the sincerity of her words. "I am with child. The announcement was made but a few days ago so the rest of the kingdom may not be aware of it. The Lady of Lothlorien has told me that an evil presence seeks to harm my child. The Enemy desires to infuse my unborn babe with the spirit of Melkor."

"Morgoth?" Melia exclaimed in an expression of horror and shock.

"You now of Morgoth?" Eowyn stared at her.

"My people know the legends of the Valar and their battles with the dark lord Melkor who was also called Morgoth, the Dark Enemy of the Elves. We know that Sauron was once his servant and that Manwe and the others of the Valar vanquished him to the void. This is indeed foul work."

"We have until the next full moon by which to reach the Enemy or else Arwen’s babe will suffer the consequences," Eowyn explained now that Arwen had fallen into silence.

"I see the reason for your haste," Melia replied. Thoughts of her own quest could wait for now because if it were true, if Melkor’s evil were attempting to return to the world of the Middle Earth then they would all suffer in due course, herself as well. "The Enemy is at the Blue Mountains?"

"I am uncertain," Arwen replied, "I only know that the means by which to kill him is there."

"It explains why the Orcs had left you unharmed and unspoiled in their power," the Ranger nodded in understanding.

"Yes," Eowyn sighed in agreement. "They were to bring Arwen to him. If it were not for the fact that they did not know which of us was the Queen, they would have killed me."

"Then it was fortunate, I happened along," Melia replied. "Though how fortunate, I did know until this moment."

"There will be more of them," Eowyn met Arwen’s gaze. "You know that."

"I do," Arwen whispered softly. "But it is only because the Enemy seeks to know what our purpose is."

Ever since they had escaped the Orcs, Arwen had been thinking about their situation and the conclusion she had reached told her that the Enemy was uncertain of what she was intending with this journey. There was every likelihood that in thinking himself to be all-powerful, he might not even consider the possibility that she would dare seek him out. If that was so, then his Orc minions might have been attempting to capture her in order to decipher what purpose was behind her sudden departure from Minas Tirith. Arwen hoped that his confusion gave him much consternation for she had no doubt that if he suspected for one second that she was embarking upon a quest to find the one thing that could slay him, they would have more than Orcs chasing after them.

"The less he knows, the better," Eowyn retorted.

"Unfortunately, he has many eyes," Arwen sighed. "I have no doubt that the Orcs are not his only minions searching Middle Earth for us. Those Orcs will not relent in recapturing us."

"In that case, we should not remain in one place long." Melia added. "We should make for Bree at first light. The journey is four days away on horseback but if we stay off the roads and travel by night, we may keep out of the reckoning of his spies."

"That is as good a plan as any," Eowyn nodded her approval. "What say you Arwen?"

"I am disposed towards it," she smiled at Melia. "And I thank you for joining us in this quest. It cannot have been an easy choice for you to aid us. The risks are great."

"The risks are even greater if your Enemy is allowed to do what he desires," Melia returned Arwen’s smile with one of similar warmth. "It was difficult enough vanquishing Sauron’s evil from Middle Earth, I think preventing a similar darkness from falling across the world is the shared responsibility of all who live in it."

Arwen had not thought of it quite that way but she was glad to hear Melia’s words nonetheless and felt herself considerably fortunate to have the companionship of such brave women. It gave her hope enough that there would be an end to this nightmare that would see her back with her beloved Estel.

* * *

The Fellowship arrived at the foot of the Misty Mountains more than a day after they had departed the wood of Lothlorien. Aragorn’s mood had worsened upon learning from Celeborn that Arwen and Eowyn had barely escaped with their lives at Cadras Nar. Faramir had even more reason for worry upon being told that the sting of the spiders that had infested the small seaside village and had killed all its inhabitants had injured Eowyn. However, he drew some comfort in knowing that, as always, she was more than capable of acquitting herself in trying circumstances. Haldir worsened the entire affair by telling Aragorn that he should have kept better a eye on his wife and that the welfare of the Evenstar should come even before his kingdom. It had taken the intervention of both Gandalf and Celeborn to keep the King from physically expressing his displeasure upon Haldir’s face.

Fortunately, Celeborn was able to supply them with stores that would be needed for their journey as well as provide some useful intelligence as to which direction Arwen and Eowyn would be travelling in order to cross the Misty Mountains. Celeborn had mentioned the pass that Arwen had considered using to cross the mountains since the Mines of Moria and the Bridge of Khazadum was no longer. Aragorn guessed that Arwen would make her next port of call Rivendell for it was familiar ground and she would choose to traverse the pass despite Celeborn’s warning. He knew that she would not want to miss the chance to visit Imladris once again, not when she had been so disappointed about the absence of her brothers’ at the celebration in the White City. It would also be her last opportunity to see it before the elves left for the Undying Lands.

"This is most disconcerting," Legolas complained as they rode along the foothills of the mountain, towards the pass they needed to cross. "We were certain all of the great spiders had been driven out of Mirkwood when Sauron was destroyed.

Legolas had led his father’s men through the forest of Mirkwood to hunt for the evil creatures after the war with Sauron was done. He himself had killed a number of the spiders and had believed them all dead. It disturbed him greatly that he had not done as a thorough job as he thought and now an entire village had succumbed to their menace. He felt responsible for those deaths even though he knew that he had done all he had been able to eradicate them forever. He remained silent for most of their journey, though Gimli had come to know him well enough to see that he was troubled by what had transpired.

"It’s not your fault you know," Gimli remarked as he sat upon the pony that he had acquired from the Shire. The horses bred for the halflings were the only beasts he truly trusted for dwarves were not accustomed to riding at all. He had only acquired the habit after travelling with Legolas and the Fellowship.

"You know me too well," Legolas returned quietly and yet Gimli’s insight did not change how he felt.

"I do," he nodded, "and I know that you elves have a tendency towards self recrimination."

"I was in charge of the party led to drive the wretched creatures from Mirkwood," he declared hotly. "I should have known that they were too easy to kill. Such creatures make it a habit of learning to disguise themselves, I should have anticipated that they were merely driven to find a new home, not that they were vanquished for good."

"In hindsight, it is easy to say such things," Gimli countered. "You did not kill those people and you did all that could have been done to destroy those monsters. Now, I would think that your efforts would be best spent ridding that town of the blasted things instead of moaning about how it could have been stopped."

"As usual, you are too blunt for your own good," Legolas frowned but he could not find fault with anything that Gimli had said. If anything there was even some truth to it. He was lingering on their deaths but he could not shed his culpability even if Gimli was right. He would avenge them. Once this quest to save Arwen was done, he would return home to Mirkwood and assemble a group of his father’s finest men. They would go to Cadras Nar and end the threat there before the creatures found another town in which to nest and feed.

"But I am right," Gimli pointed out.

"You are," Legolas grumbled. "How is that possible? You dwarves aren’t known for your subtlety."

Gimli laughed and Legolas would have joined him when a sudden gust of wind swept out of nowhere, dislodging rocks and dust from their place on the ground to be borne into the air. A great chill fell upon them and though it was bright and sunny not long ago, the sun had suddenly disappeared behind thick, heavy clouds. The change in weather was so sudden that Legolas had barely noticed the shift in the wind, a thing most elves were capable of doing since it was almost second nature.

"There is something a foot here," Gandalf captured everyone’s attention with that one sentence.

"What do you mean?" Aragorn demanded. While he did find it strange that the weather had come upon them so swiftly, it was entirely possible that it was a natural occurrence.

"It feels as if someone has produced this storm for our benefit," the wizard replied, remembering too well how Saruman had almost killed them all when they had attempted to cross the Caradhras during the quest of the Ring. This sudden storm had that stink about it. While he could not sense the manipulations of another of the Istari at work as he had then, he knew the storm was false. There was something foul at work and caution was needed.

"Then we best reach the pass as soon as we can," Aragorn ordered. "Once we are on the other side, the mountains shall shield us from its might."

Gandalf was not so certain. The gale force winds were now bringing down the snow from the top of the mountain and it fell around them as if it was winter. The sudden snap of cold made everyone pull their cloaks and their coats to their bodies and even the horses were uneasy. Shadowfax, Gandalf’s trusted steed, snorted his displeasure and the wizard placed a hand across the stallion’s neck, trying to soothe its anxiety.

"Gandalf can you sense it?" Legolas asked him as they neared the pass.

"Yes," the wizard nodded.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Sam stated. "This doesn’t feel right."

"Are you developing Elven senses too?" Frodo stared at his old friend with a smile but it was a nervous one. There was darkness coming, they could all feel it.

"Let’s hurry," Faramir insisted, digging his heels into the side of his horse. "Maybe we can outrun it."

His horse bolted forward, making quick time towards the opening in the mountain. Merry and Pippin followed suit, never one to be left behind on anything.

"Faramir wait!" Aragorn shouted but the howl of the wind swept his voice out of Faramir’s hearing.

The king swore loudly when he saw his friends disappearing into the sudden blizzard. However, he could do nothing but follow suit, hoping to save Faramir from himself before he put too much distance between them. When there was magic afoot, it was best to be cautious even if the danger did not appear overt. The others followed his stead, keeping him in their sights as they followed him into the breach. Aragorn knew that it was Faramir’s love for his wife that made him irrational. The king could well understand this fear for he felt the same way about Arwen but he had spent too many years as a Ranger rushing in where angels feared to thread. He knew the sense of caution and he had patience. If nothing else, his years in the wilderness had taught him that much.

The walls of the canyon soon enveloped them and the storm seemed to grow a thousand fold in its ferocity, until it became hard to see through the veil of snow. Once again, they were reminded of the crossing at Caradhras when Saruman’s malice had driven them off the mountain into the Mines of Moria. Aragorn could see Faramir ahead and felt gratified that his old friend had come to his senses to slow down. Pippin and Merry had already brought their mounts to a halt, awaiting the arrival of the King.

"Fools!" Aragorn snapped as he reached them. "We have no idea what lies ahead!"

"We were riding after him to stop him!" Merry retorted, somewhat offended that Aragorn would think them foolish enough to act so rashly. The days when he had encountered them at the Prancing Pony were long gone. It was almost a lifetime ago and they had seen the world and knew the dangers that lurked beyond the Shire, enough to know when to be sensible about their action.

Aragorn felt ashamed of his anger and quickly apologised, "I am sorry. You were not deserving of my anger."

"He can’t hear us!" Pippin broke into the conversation. "We tried to call him before he got too far ahead of us but he couldn’t hear us over the wind. We wanted to tell him."

"Tell him what?" Aragorn stared at them in confusion as the others caught up with the trio.

"That!" Pippin pointed at the ground.

Through the snow, Aragorn saw what it was that had brought the two hobbits to such a complete standstill. The bones of a warrior, long dead stared at him with the empty eye sockets of his skull. The king allowed his gaze to move across the terrain before them. He made the same discovery as Eowyn and Arwen had done only days before that the irregular formations of rock that surrounded them traveled along their path. Nothing about what he was seeing appeared to be products of natural erosion and he had seen enough mountains in his time to know the difference.

Suddenly before he could think to say another word, he heard a sound through the wail of the wind that made him jump. It was like a clap of thunder that echoed down the canyon despite the storm brewing about them. Aragorn’s heart began to pound as Gandalf brought Shadowfax beside him. "We need to get out of here!"

"I won’t leave Faramir!" Aragorn said defiantly. "Take the others from here and I will go find him."

"No!" Gandalf grabbed his arm before he could gallop away. "You are the king! I will go!"

"I am the king and it is my choice!"

The choice was never made because he heard Legolas shout loudly and with such panic that even the wind could not still the prince’s voice.

"LOOK OUT!"

Aragorn and Gandalf looked up and saw a huge boulder tumbling towards them. Aragorn dug his heels into his horse and sent it running but Gandalf had not the speed for such a hasty departure. Instead, the wizard raised his staff and suddenly the large piece of rock shattered in mid air, sending fragments in all directions. No sooner than its debris had reached the earth, another crashing sound was heard. This time the deadly projectile from above had landed near Sam’s pony Bill, forcing the animal to bolt ahead. Frodo’s mount had reared up on its hind legs as more rocks started to fall.

"Ride!" Aragorn shouted, thinking of nothing else to do to escape the deadly barrage falling from above.

He needed not give the order twice for the others were already surging ahead. Aragorn looked upwards to see more boulders plunging through the air and pulled the reins of his horse as one of the large fragments covered him with the shadow of its perilous arrival. He dug his heels deeper into the animal’s flank, producing an angry snort as the steed bolted forward with enough speed to ensure that when the rock came crashing down, it would not be with the King under it. Aragorn’s relief at escaping certain death was short lived however, when he saw Gimli’s horse, rear onto its hind legs in fright when a boulder shattered in front of it. The dwarf tried valiantly to remain in the saddle and absurdly Aragorn thought that this experience was not going to improve his opinion on riding very much, when the king saw Gimli fall.

Legolas who had been riding alongside the dwarf, immediately ground his own horse to an abrupt halt, caring little about the consequences to himself as he rode towards Gimli who was scrambling to his feet after his unceremonious dismount. The elf leaned over upon reaching his companion, extending an arm out just as a boulder slammed into the path before him and began rolling forward, propelled by its momentum towards the duo. Aragorn felt his heart leap with fear as he watched in horror, the disaster about to unfold. Legolas however, proved far too swift to be brought to an untimely end and he grabbed Gimli’s arm and swept him onto the back of his horse and rode out of danger’s way.

Aragorn continued his own efforts to escape the deadly onslaught of rocks that were raining down on them. He could see Merry and Pippin struggling to escape the barrage while Legolas and Gimli seemed to be making good pace; the archer weaving expertly through the crashing rocks around them. The king attempted to raise his eyes to the source of this deadly storm and could see little through the blizzard of rock and snow. Fortunately, the boulders and rocks being dropped upon them were large for if they were not, there would have been no way any of them would escape this canyon alive. Despite the struggle to avoid the crashing rocks around them, Aragorn noticed something curious about the pattern of the bombardment. Where they had ridden, no other rocks followed. They only appeared to fall where the Fellowship was attempting to cross.

"GANDALF!" Aragorn shouted for the wizard, suspecting that perhaps the Istari might be able to discern what was happening and stop this before any of them were killed.

Aragorn saw Shadowfax first. The great steed seemed to know that its rider was being hailed and paused in its steps. Aragorn caught up to Gandalf, knowing they could not linger long. Frodo had wisely remained closed to Gandalf, following the wizards lead to see him and Sam safely through.

"The rocks follow us Gandalf!" Aragorn declared as another great boulder crashed along side of him and he had to struggle to stay his horse from bolting in panic.

"I know," Gandalf nodded, his gaze travelling upwards to the top of the canyon. "I do believe that there is a giant at work here."

"A giant?" Frodo exclaimed. "Like the one in Moria?"

"A little worse I fear," Gandalf retorted. Boulders were crashing all around them with greater frequency. Their ability to prevail against the creature’s onslaught had fired its determination to kill them once and for all and it was becoming more and more difficult to avoid being crushed underneath.

"We must keep moving!" Aragorn insisted, seeing Legolas and Gimli disappear through the snowfall and knew that to remain in place was to invite disaster.

"I’ll tend to this," Gandalf shouted. "You take the others and go!"

Aragorn stared at him. "The last time you asked that of me, you died!"

"That was a balrog!" Gandalf returned over the wail of the wind and the crashing rocks. "This is a stone giant, I can deal with it."

"You said you could deal with that balrog too and that did not bode well in your favor!" Aragorn retorted, not willing to leave the wizard to die a second time.

"GO!" Gandalf boomed, showing the king that his patience was finite and that he would brook no more argument.

The bombardment around them was becoming worse and only the storm prevented the giant from throwing his rocks accurately. But it was only a matter of time before one of those deadly boulders would meet their mark. Aragorn saw the resolve in Gandalf’s eyes and knew that he had to obey. Even kings knew obedience when faced with the wrath of wizards and Aragorn knew that Gandalf did not give him orders lightly. With reluctance, the former ranger nodded in compliance and quickly averted his gaze to Frodo and Sam. "Stay close to me you two, this will not be easy."

"Gandalf…" Frodo opened his mouth to speak when he saw a large rock looming over them.

"HURRY!" Gandalf ordered and Frodo instinctively broke his pony into a gallop. Following Aragorn and Sam, Frodo cast a look over his shoulder and saw the wizard escaping the reach of the boulder that crushed the space where they had been. Realising that he had to trust Gandalf to his own devices, Frodo’s eyes returned to Aragorn and Sam before he too rode through the canyon without looking back.

Gandalf felt fragments of rock biting into his skin as the rock shattered into a multitude of smaller and large pieces that scattered across the snow covered ground. He squinted as he looked above and saw that there was indeed a giant perched at the top. The creature resembled a cave troll and although it was larger its desire for destruction was just as a vile. It saw Aragorn and the others riding away and was now giving chase by flinging as many rocks at the parting trio as possible. Fortunately, this allowed Gandalf the time to deal with the giant without interruption though he could not afford to waste any time in doing so in case one of those rocks met their mark.

Taking a deep breath, Gandalf remained steady on Shadowfax as he raised his arms, clasping his staff on each end as he gazed at the turbulent heavens above. Whether or not the giant saw him, Gandalf could not say but as it was often with such creatures, its attention was quick to wander and at this time it was more concerned with killing the riders he could see clearly in a group, instead of one alone. Holding his staff up high, Gandalf did not need to speak the words for only two penny conjurers required words to make a spell work. For Gandalf the words were spoken in his mind and from his mind they became something real. The giant was somehow able to precipitate the storm that had blinded so many and led them to their deaths.

It was not the only one who knew how to summon storms.

A crack of lighting splintered the sky with its thunderous roar. Like spidery webs of blue and white, it struck the top of the mountain, creating a tremendous sound that made all the other noises before it pale in comparison. It screamed above the howl of the wind and Gandalf did not need to instruct Shadowfax to move. The horse, sensing the danger, broke into a gallop as the ledge upon which the giant had made its murderous assault crumbled underfoot. Gandalf looked up and saw a mountain of earth and rock making rapid haste to the ground. He thought he might have seen the giant itself but the wizard could not be certain, for he was too busy trying to riding beyond the path of the oncoming barrage.

However, as he rode away from the looming destruction, he heard a scream through the snow that was neither wind or the sound of breaking rock but rather like a voice that was filled with fury and despair. It grew from a great distance and neared until Gandalf could almost feel its heated breath against his back before coming to an abrupt end when the broken edge of the mountains finally landed in the confine of the passage way. The ground shuddered beneath Shadowfax’s hooves and even Gandalf could feel its tremors in his bones. Yet with that cataclysmic end, the storm suddenly abated. The wind died where it blew, its gale quickly slipping into a whisper.

When the wind died the clouds rolled away and behind the thick gray canopy were blue sky. Gandalf felt the sunshine upon his face and knew that the danger had passed. He brought Shadowfax to a halt and gazed behind him at what he had wrought. The passageway was completely blocked by the great weight of rock and soil. The usefulness of the pass was no more for the destruction had sealed it. As the dust cleared, Gandalf wondered if the evil creature that had brought about so much death was now itself a victim of its own malice. He watched the rubble, waiting to ensure that this was so, that beneath the dirt, nothing stirred to cause further mischief.

"Gandalf!" he heard Aragorn call before him.

Facing forward again, he saw the Fellowship returning to him, no doubt having paused in their escape when the weather had changed for the better. He could see the relief in the eyes of all but especially in Frodo’s and Aragorn’s for they were always mindful of his misfortune at Khazadum.

"Is it dead?" Frodo asked, looking over the wizard’s shoulder.

"It will cause no more mischief that is for sure," Gandalf replied, not eager to admit that he might have killed the thing though it certainly deserved death.

"Perhaps next time you shall bear little more caution Lord of Ithilien," Gandalf stared at Faramir who looked rather admonished for his rash advance into the passage.

"I have been properly chastised by my king already," Faramir confessed somewhat embarrassed that his impulsiveness had almost cost him and his friends their lives. He did not think it was possible to hear the King shout so loudly through a blizzard but somehow Aragorn had managed it. What was worse, and it was to Faramir’sshame that he could not refute any of his king’s angry words, fired mostly by his concern for Faramir’s life and that of the Fellowship. "I promise, you will not see me behave so rashly again."

"Not unless he wants to explain to his wife why he is the lord of Ithilien in the guard tower when we return to Minas Tirith," Aragorn retorted, giving him a wry look of mock anger.

"If you were not my king…" Faramir started to say.

"I’d still throttle you about the ears for what you did," Aragorn cut him off.

"Ah," Pippin said with a smile as the two argued. The hobbit beamed as he exchanged amused glances with the rest of the Fellowship who were all reminded of how it had been during the quest to rid the world of the One Ring, when Boromir and the Ranger Strider could never seemed to agree on anything.

"It is like old times isn’t it?"

* * *

They arrived at Bree only a few short hours before dawn after travelling for nearly three days.

True to her word, Melia had taken them through unfamiliar paths, no doubt known only to Rangers and people with intimate knowledge of this part of Middle Earth. Nevertheless, despite the twists and turns in their journey through what to Arwen and Eowyn seemed like uncharted territory, they did arrive at Bree a full day earlier than expected which was pleasing to all concerned since time was such an enormous factor for the fulfillment of the quest.

For Arwen, Bree was something of an experience. In her long life, she had journeyed extensively through Middle Earth and she had seen much of the lands to the south, Gondor, Rohan, Isengard and since the fall of Sauron, even Mordor. She had chance to travel to the Grey Havens but this was the first time, she had ventured so close to the realm of the halflings. Although Bree was not considered a part of the Shire, it was the last settlement where men could be found before entering the land of the hobbits.

Enclosed completely by high walls, the only way to enter the town was by way of the main gates which were guarded at all times by a lone sentry whose business it was to ask questions of visitors. The practice had arisen shortly after the trouble with Sauron had begun and it was still in full force even though Mordor and the Ring Lord’s reign was no more. A rather dour and grimy looking man had made peered through the small peephole when Arwen and her companions arrived at the large wooden gates. Under their cloaks and concealed by the shadows of a moonless night, she supposed they must have appeared rather intimidating to him at first. However, upon learning that he had three ladies awaiting entry, his attitude changed considerably and he allowed them in with what could be considered a civil tone.

Inside the gates, Bree appeared much larger than the fortifications would have visitors believe. Although it was difficult to tell because they arrived in town shortly before dawn and most of its inhabitants were still in bed, there were more than enough homes and businesses to show that this was a thriving community. It was also to her amusement that in search of lodgings for the night, they came across the inn called the Prancing Pony that had figured so prominently in her king’s recollections of his first meeting with the halflings before the War of the Ring.

Arwen saw no reason why the inn could not provide them with a comfortable bed for a few hours. As it was, the inn did not appear to have any difficulty furnishing the needs of men, elves and hobbits alike and Arwen was not about to deny herself the pleasure of a comfortable bed and a warm fire after so many days sleeping out in the open. Despite Melia’s protestations that perhaps the Prancing Pony was not the best place for two noblewomen to select as their choice of accommodation, Arwen knew that it would serve them well.

As much as she loathed to confess it to the others, she tired more easily then she was accustomed to. Arwen knew that the cause of this was most likely because she was with child but it was for her child’s sake that she pressed on despite the limitations of her strength. If Eowyn could force herself to ride, having sustained injuries after their encounter with the great spiders at Cadras Nar, how could Arwen ask any less of herself? Yet there was a point, when exhaustion would not be denied and Arwen’s decision to lodge at the Prancing Pony had as much to do with her curiosity about the place as it did the fact that she was too tired to seek anything else.

Fortunately, nothing of note took place during their stay in Bree. They remained there long enough to capture a good day’s sleep and by the evening of the next night, they had been completely rested and were able to dine on a hearty meal before they set out again. Although the temptation to linger for another day or so was strong in all of them, Arwen dared not risk the time they had gained because of Melia’s guidance to Bree. It would be two days before they could think about experiencing such comforts again, if all went well and they arrived in the Shire without encountering any trouble. So far, there were no new signs of the Enemy or his Orcs but Arwen was not foolish enough to believe they were gone. She could feel their presence on the edge of her consciousness and knew it would be only a matter of time before she and her companions encountered them again.

For the moment however, it was hard to think of Orcs or any other threat when they took the main road into the Shire.

For years, she had heard Estel, Mithandir and the halflings themselves, speak of their beloved Shire but until now she had not realized why it was so dear to them. While not at all majestic like the White City or Imladris, there was beauty in the simplicity of the small houses and the seemingly endless fields of green meadows. The halflings liked their homes underground and until one actually entered the community, one could never really guess how unique these burrows truly were. They looked like grassy mounds with doors and windows positioned in the front and a stone chimney protruding from the top. Arwen was somewhat sorry that Frodo was in Minas Tirith with Estel for she would have dearly loved to have seen what it looked like inside one of these charming little homes.

The Shire was not used to visitors, Arwen decided as she, Eowyn and Melia rode through the meandering track that led to the heart of Hobbiton. The inhabitants of the Shire were a curious sort who by their furtive glances were curious about them but much too well mannered to stare with any kind of deep scrutiny. Instead their examination was like their very natures, unobtrusive and discreet. They were a curious sort when the object of their fascination wandered into their immediate vicinity but as a race, they were not prone to travel beyond Bree. It was very much a close knit society, where everyone knew everyone else’s business and upon seeing the sense of community that existed in Hobbiton, she marveled at the courage it must have taken for Frodo to embark upon the quest of the Ring.

How hard must it have been for all of them, not just Frodo, to leave the Shire, when it was their entire world? Not merely to leave but to set out upon a quest that had since changed the face of Middle Earth. Arwen found herself infused with a new respect for the hobbits, even more so than had existed before. She only hoped that she could find as much courage in the undertaking of her own quest for if it was only a fraction of what Frodo and the other halflings possessed, then she was blessed with ample.

"So this is the Shire?" Eowyn remarked as they rode through Hobbiton.

"It is a pretty place," Melia replied as she saw a group of children following the leisurely pace of their horses by concealing themselves in every bush that came along. She offered them a friendly smile when they dared peer out of the shrubbery, a gesture that only caused their withdrawal into concealment again, followed by a stream of excited giggles. "I see now why the king is so determined to protect it. I would hate to think of Orcs or any of Sauron’s evil minions set loose upon this place."

It was true, Melia thought as her gazed swept across the luscious green fields with the air filled with the harvest’s ripe seed. It was reminiscent of the village she had grown up in so long ago, far away from the known lands of Middle Earth. She glanced once more at the children who were now visible as they followed the visitors with youthful curiosity unabated and offered them another smile before facing the road ahead again.

"We will be to the Havens in a few days," Eowyn stated as they approached Hobbiton where it was agreed they would break their journey to rest. From their discussions with Frodo and the rest of the halflings, Eowyn was under the impression that they could find lodgings at the center of town for the night. "We will need to stop and freshen our supplies. Once we depart from there, there is no telling when we will be able to do so again. Beyond the Havens, there is little in the way of villages or towns. It will be a long journey to the Blue Mountains."

"We will ask Lord Cirdan for a guide," Arwen answered, not wishing to think about that part of their journey but since they were drawing close to their destination, she supposed that it was time they discussed the matter somewhat. "They can lead us to the mountains, to the remains of the forest of Brethil."

"You realise once he learns what you intend to do, he may not be inclined to let you go," Eowyn pointed out.

Arwen was aware of that fact more than she would like to admit but Cirdan had no choice in the matter. Either he let her and her companions go on their way or  _all_ their futures would be jeopardized. There could be no debate upon this point. "He will let me go," she sighed. "He must."

"What exactly is at Brethil that we must journey there with such haste?" Melia asked, for this part of the quest had not been explained to her.

Eowyn herself could not answer, other than to know that they were in search of a sword, the sword of Turin to be exact for it was the weapon forged that could kill the Enemy. "We seek the Sword of Turin, beyond that I do not know." She glanced at Arwen for that was where the answers lay.

"The Sword of Turin is meant to be made of a substance even harder than mithrail," Arwen replied, recounting what she knew of the legends. "In the past, expeditions have been sent to recover the weapon but all have failed. Those who have attempted have never returned to speak the reason for the failure of those before them."

"What substance could there be that is harder than mithrail?" Melia looked at them both in confusion. In the elemental world of Middle Earth, there was nothing harder, save for perhaps dragon’s scales but since one needed to extract the latter from the actual creature, the supply was scarce to say the least.

"I do not know," Arwen answered. "I only know that Turin’s sword is said to have been fashioned from a fallen star."

"A fanciful description," Eowyn frowned. "Hardly descriptive."

"I suppose we shall know the truth when we arrive there," Arwen shrugged, aware of nothing else she could say at this point to make it any clearer. "It is for us to accomplish what no one else has."

"Let us hope we fare better than they," Melia frowned, not liking the lack of information.

"Think of it this way," Eowyn smiled not one to dwell on the negative. "We can only die once."

Melia gave her a look. "I admire your ability to see the good in  _any_  situation."

"It is one of her many talents," Arwen retorted with just as much sarcasm.

* * *

Ever since they had encountered the stone giant in the Misty Mountains, a feeling of dread had been building up inside of Aragorn that he revealed to no one though he believed some of them might suspect what he was terrified of being the truth. He knew the possibility had occurred to the others but they did not dare speak it out for fear of how he would react if he knew. Celeborn had warned that many that had attempted to cross the mountains by using that same canyon had vanished never to be seen again. Although Aragorn had not time to make a proper search when they had traveled through the deadly breach, he knew what he had seen and what he had seen was the remnants of many corpses that had been skeletalized by time.

There was no telling how long the creature had been waylaying travelers with its deadly barrage for the snowfall had made it difficult to see just how many bodies there were on the ground. The urgency of the situation had prevented Aragorn from examining them closely, though he wanted to badly. As the Fellowship departed the perilous path and made for Rivendell, Aragorn became consumed by the possibility that perhaps Arwen and Eowyn might have taken the same route upon leaving Lothlorien. Indeed, Celeborn had said that he had given her the same warning.

Upon leaving the mountain range and making their way towards the legendary elven city, a grave mood had befallen the Fellowship for they all felt Aragorn’s anxiety as well as his need to reach Rivendell. The king hope’s for his wife’s safety rested solely on the hope that she had reached the elven city ahead of them. Only when he saw her at Rivendell, could he believe that she had escaped the fate they had so narrowly survived themselves.

While Aragorn’s fear was kept close to his heart, with none of it shown beyond his fierce determination to keep moving, Faramir’s anxiety was more visible in the shortness of his temper. Although the Fellowship all loved Arwen and Eowyn, their affection could not compare to the love felt by the husbands of the two formidable women. The others in the party were careful in their words, speaking as if no harm had befallen either the Queen or the Lady of Ithilien, offering Aragorn and Faramir hope for as long as it was possible.

It felt like almost an eternity had passed before they reached Rivendell and as they passed through the city towards Elrond’s home, the signs of the great exodus could be seen everywhere. It was like watching the diminishing light of a great jewel where once gone, would leave the world a less wondrous place in its passing. They could feel the end of an age soaking into their skins when they moved through the streets of Rivendell and saw the ongoing preparations of the elves to depart for the western shores. In his heart, Aragorn knew that when Gandalf went so would Frodo. Though it had not been spoken out loud by either, he could feel it instinctively. Someday, Legolas would go too and what remained of the Fellowship would pass into memory and be forgotten as if it had never been.

He hoped the memory of those who lived beyond his years would endure for he would not.

There were no happy greetings when Aragorn entered Elrond’s house and was met by Elladan and Elrohir. The twin brothers, who had fought along side of Aragorn during the War of the Ring, did not seem as enthused by their departure to the Undying lands as they should, when they came to meet him and the Fellowship. Identical to one another, they bore Elrond’s dark, intense looks instead of Arwen’s luminescence, which Aragorn was told was from her mother Celebrian. While Elrond had always been reserved about Aragorn’s affections for his daughter, her brothers were nothing but supportive and this was mostly because they had fought alongside him and knew that he was a man of good and noble bearing, worthy of their sister’s affections.

"Estel!" Elladan, the more adventurous of the two exclaimed as they met the Fellowship in the great hall of Elrond’s court. "What brings you here? We would have thought that you would still be playing host to your guests at the White City."

Aragorn’s heart sank upon hearing Elladan’s happy words for it appeared he did not know that there was little cause to celebrate. Arwen would have confided in them about her quest and the dark implications it had upon their child if she failed. That they did not know brought to surface Aragorn’s worse fears.

"What is it?" Elrohir asked, his eyes seeing the worry in the faces before him as the king felt the air drain from his lungs.

"She has not been here?" Aragorn asked, his voice nothing more than a strangled gasp.

"Who?" Elrohir stared at him in confusion, understanding now that something terrible had happened.

"Arwen," Legolas answered sparing either Faramir or Aragorn from speaking. "She has not come here?"

"No," Elladan shook his head. "We have seen nothing of her. Are you telling me that our sister was meant to come here?"

"Yes," Legolas nodded. "She has been given a quest to fulfil," he explained. "Some days ago we narrowly escaped death at the hands of a stone giant. The vile creature was hurling rocks upon anyone who dared use the pass through the Misty Mountains. We saw bodies of those who had tried before us. We think that Arwen and the Lady Eowyn who is travelling with her, might have taken this path."

The two elves became ashen with horror and Legolas did not know what to say to console them.

"Aragorn, Faramir," Gandalf said quickly, refusing to belief that it could end this way for either woman. "There may be any number of reasons why they did not pass through Imladris. Perhaps they discovered the danger and chose another route that might have made coming here too troublesome."

"That’s right," Sam added. "The Queen, she knows how to look after herself. She kept Mr. Frodo safe from those Rings Wraiths. She probably saw through that stone giant fellow and kept going!"

"And what if they didn’t?" Faramir asked, clearly in anguish at the thought that his beloved Eowyn might have come to harm. "They might have died there while we were running to save our skins!"

"She’s not dead," Aragorn swallowed away his pain and his despair. He crushed it mercilessly under the compelling desire not to fail her by giving in to his fears. Gandalf was right; they knew nothing for certain and until he had irrefutable evidence of it, he was not going to believe that Arwen or Eowyn for that matter had fallen. "My wife is  _not_  dead."

"You don’t know that," Faramir stared at him, wanting to believe his king, needing to believe him.

"I know that Arwen and Eowyn are capable of taking care of themselves, that if we could escape that monster then perhaps they did as well. They might have been wise enough to go another way upon sensing the danger," Aragorn said firmly and saw the others starting to fill with hope at the strength of his belief.

"I hope you are right," Faramir answered meeting his eyes, lost between accepting the worst and clinging to the hope, no matter how futile.

"I am right," Aragorn declared. "I am right because I do not feel that she is dead. In my heart, I know she lives and I have to believe that she is or I am no good to her."

 _And perhaps no good without her_ , he thought silently.

 _She was alive_ , Aragorn told himself as the words left him boldly. She had to be.

He would not believe anything else.


	7. The Edge of the World

 

 It could be argued that there was little reason to press on when it was possible that Arwen and Eowyn had never survived their encounter with the stone giant. However, none of the Fellowship were prepared to accept this as a given in any shape or form. As long as their husbands believed they were still alive, the Fellowship would continue their journey to find the two women. Elladan and Elrohir would have abandoned their duties at Imraldis to accompany the Fellowship in their search if Aragorn asked it of them. Arwen was their sister after all and the Evenstar as she was known to the elves was their fairest daughter. They felt the same concern as he did. However, Aragorn stayed their hand. He had no wish to usurp the wishes of Elrond who desired that they remain to oversee the elves’ departure from Middle Earth nor did he wish the Lord of Rivendell be placed in a position where all three of his children were endangered, not just the one.

They remained in Rivendell long enough to rest and to be provided with fresh supplies before they resumed their journey towards Lindon and the Grey Havens. It was a journey Aragorn and the hobbits knew well and while they had been coming to Rivendell instead of departing from it, the reason for their travel seemed no less urgent then it had been when they were attempting to deliver the One Ring to Rivendell. Still, despite the dark quest ahead of them, there was time enough for Aragorn and the hobbits to feel some measure of nostalgia in travelling the road taken once more and together. Aragorn could not help wonder at all the changes that had taken place in his life since he had last been in this part of the world.

_The world changes my love," Arwen had said. "You have simply changed with it."_

He remembered her words to him the night before he left and was filled with a profound sense of longing for her. Aragorn hoped she was all right and wished he was with her, being strong for her while she shouldered the terrible knowledge about their child’s future. It made him angry inside when he thought at how happy she had been to bear his child only to have that joy tainted by such a vicious act of evil. This should have been her moment to savor and enjoy, not ruined by such black possibility. Whoever the Enemy was, Aragorn would grind his bones to dust for the joy he had stolen from Arwen with his dark plans.

Making the crossing from Rivendell to Bree was a good deal faster because they made the trip on horseback and were soon at Weathertop. Aragorn had chosen the place to make camp because he knew the terrain and the height of the hill was also a good lookout point to watch for approaching enemies. When he had led the hobbits here all those years ago, they had been fleeing from the Nazgul, Sauron’s dark Ring Wraiths. While the servants of the new Enemy were not as fearsome as the Nazgul, Aragorn was not prepared to take chances, not when he needed to reach Arwen as quickly as possible.

The Fellowship began to establish camp as the sun started to set in the horizon with Sam taking the liberty of cooking as always. For Sam, whose occupation in life was seeing to Mr. Frodo’s comfort often found it easy to extend that area of responsibility to the Fellowship when the need arose. Since their departure from Minas Tirith, Sam had been ensuring that everyone was rested and fed when they were out in the open. Aragorn was convinced that it was the hobbit’s way of keeping some order to his existence when so much around him was in chaos. Nevertheless, Sam was a good cook and Aragorn could live with it if the hobbit gave their position away to the enemy by the aroma of his culinary expertise.

"Legolas," Aragorn called out to the archer who was sitting upon one of the ruined rocks that were once a part of the fortifications built on top of the hill, watching the surrounding area with vigilance. "Gimli and I are going to scout the area, keep your eye sharp."

Legolas nodded as Aragorn and the dwarf left the campsite. The elf returned his gaze to the lands surrounding Weathertop and immediately reminded himself that its true name was actually Amun Sul. The remnants of the tower that had been built there still remained on the hill even after two thousand years. Some of it had blended into the landscape so that it was difficult to tell where the hill ended and the tower began. He sensed no immediate danger in the vicinity but saw no reason to be complacent either. There was much darkness afoot in this quest and they all needed to be on their guard to survive it.

The elf swept his gaze across his camp and saw that his companions were engaged in their own undertakings as they settled down to rest from the day’s journey. Faramir was seeing to the horses and would join them shortly, while Merry and Pippin were around the fire with Sam, no doubt attracted by the mouth-watering aroma of Sam’s efforts as cook. Gandalf was seated on a rock, his wizened eyes staring into the horizon as he enjoyed smoking his pipe. Frodo however, appeared anxious as his eyes crisscrossed the area. Legolas knotted his brow in confusion, wondering what it was that vexed the hobbit so. Frodo’s mental state and health had not recovered, as it should since the War of the Ring. Although Sam had not spoken of it much, Legolas suspected that being a Ring Bearer had left lasting effects upon the gentle halfling.

Legolas was not the only one to notice Frodo’s state of mind. Gandalf had been mindful of Frodo’s condition ever since the hobbit had arrived at Minas Tirith for the celebration. Gandalf wished Aragorn had chose another place to camp the night because this place had too much weight upon Frodo’s memories. It was here that the Nazgul blade had penetrated the hobbit’s skin for the first time and left him with a wound that not even time could heal. The hobbit that had set out from the Shire with the One Ring was not the same as the one before him and more than anyone else, save perhaps Sam, Gandalf mourned the loss of the former. Gandalf had hoped returning to the Shire might rekindle Frodo’s spirit somewhat but upon seeing him at the White City, it was clear that did not happen. While he seemed a little like his old self during this quest, it was not enough. He was not getting better and if he remained in Middle Earth any longer, Gandalf was certain he would deteriorate to a point of no return.

"Frodo," Gandalf called out to the hobbit that was unsuccessfully trying to sit quietly and ignore the memories the place invoked him. "Come join me."

Frodo was glad for something to do and he joined Gandalf at the edge of the hill. As he settled next to the older man, Frodo gazed into the distance and tried to see the Shire from here. He could not. Yet even if he could, it would offer him little comfort. There were too many ghosts here for him to every be relaxed on Weathertop. Frodo took a deep breath of the smoke Gandalf was exhaling and immediately recognized it as South Farthing, the finest weed to be grown in the Shire. Gandalf had an unusual fondness for the stuff and kept a good supply on himself at all times.

"You and Bilbo are incorrigible with your weed," Frodo remarked with a bemused smile as he stared at the wizard.

"We recognize the finer things in life," Gandalf replied, completely unrepentant on this one issue. "You might take a lesson in that. You need to relax."

"I can’t," Frodo answered much quicker than he should have. "Not in this place. It has too many unpleasant memories." His eyes darted about the area anxiously. There was nothing to fear and he knew it but his mind seemed trapped on that terrible night when he had stared a Nazgul in the face, such as it was and felt the bite of its blade in his skin. His whole life had changed in that one moment and it was still changing, even now.

"Should I ask Strider to move our camp?" Gandalf asked gently, perfectly willing to do it if it would ease Frodo’s fears.

"No," Frodo shook his head immediately. "He has enough things to worry about and this is just a place, I am being foolish."

"There’s nothing foolish about what you went through Frodo, " Gandalf pointed out. "The One Ring would have broken lesser men but you prevailed. You are stronger than you believe yourself to be. Even I did not know how strong until you carried the Ring."

Frodo cracked a little smile at the compliment but it did not possess any warmth, "and yet all I feel is this coldness that will not go away. I try to go on and being on this quest with Strider has helped a little but I still feel empty and there are also the bouts of sickness that seem to appear from time to time."

"Maybe its time you left Middle earth, Frodo," Gandalf said softly after a long pause. Frodo was a Ring Bearer and what he had been through had certainly earned him the right to take his place among the Endless of the western shore. In the Undying Lands, there was the skill to heal his wound and forever remove the blight it had caused upon his psyche. In that other world, he could be assured of never being harmed again and live a life longer than he could possibly dream.

"Leave?" Frodo stared at him in shock.

"Yes," Gandalf nodded. "Come with me to the Western Lands. I will be going sooner than you think and so will Bilbo and Galadriel and eventually all the elves in this realm."

"But what about Sam and Merry and…" he started to say when he realised that they did not really need him. Sam had Rosie and his own life. Merry was looking to marry Estella Bolger while Pippin was forming similar attachments with Diamond of Long Cleeve. Only he remained in flux and it occurred to him now that even if he left, their lives would go on as they should and they would find happiness without him.

"I believed you know the answer to that question already," Gandalf smiled knowingly. "Shelob’s poison and the Nazgul blade has done great harm to you Frodo. It keeps you from achieving the peace you desire. I am sorry for that Frodo, it was never my intention to sour the world for you when I set you on the road to Bree with the One Ring. However, if you are not happy in this world then perhaps it is time to find solace in another. Come with me Frodo and though I cannot promise you true happiness for not even a wizard is fool enough to make such a claim, you may find a new way for yourself."

Frodo did not answer right away because what might have once seemed to be a preposterous suggestion now appeared to be the only way left to him.

If only he dared to take it.

* * *

Grey Havens.

The Elves called it Mithlond but whatever the name, it could not be mistaken for any other place in Middle Earth. Poised on the shore facing the Gulf of Lune, it was from here that the elves would journey to the Western lands. Even though it existed like any other place in Middle Earth, Eowyn could not help thinking that there was a certain unreality to it. Grey Haven was like Rivendell, steeped in legend yet existing in tune with the ordinary world even though nothing about either would ever let a visitor think otherwise.

They had left Hobbiton after spending most of the day asleep and had continued their journey under the cover of dark. They had traveled for two days after departing the Shire before they reached the coast. As they saw the gray ocean sending frothy waves hurling against the cliffs, it felt as if they had reached the edge of the world for beyond the Gulf of Lune was the western sea and what existed there was unknown to the peoples of Middle Earth. She knew that the elves sailed its expanse to reach the Undying Lands but apparently it no longer existed within the realm of the world as they knew it and only the elves were able to make the crossing between the two.

The city of Mithlond was built around the bay that emptied into the Gulf of Lune and from which the Lune River flowed. Along the shore, Eowyn could see the great ships that were under construction in readiness to carry the elves away in their exodus from Middle Earth. Until she saw for herself, Eowyn did not realize how much for granted she had taken their departure. Since the War of the Ring, it was easy to forget that the world was changing when everything seemed to be settling into its place. The elves had always been a distant entity, something that men had learned to live with but had never truly understood. They seemed too far removed from the lives of men with their immortal existence and their differing values. Yet now that Eowyn found herself friend to one of their greatest daughters, she had come to know something about them and seeing the ships in readiness to leave, taking these legendary fair folk away forever, left Eowyn with a terrible sense of loss.

She could not even begin to imagine how Arwen must have felt.

The activity taking place as Arwen, Eowyn and Melia rode through the streets of Mithlond towards the house of Cirdan the Shipwright was almost frantic. Elven tradesmen, be they carpenters, shipbuilders or workers of metal, hurried about their business, attempting to ready the ships before the arrival of their passengers. Although Arwen knew it would be a matter of months before Elrond sailed away to the Undying Lands, those months were merely a splinter of time to these folk when there was so much work to be done. She wondered if the call of the sea hastened their imperative for she could hear its call in her bones. It was a siren song that was capable of making her abandon her quest if she gave it leave. The longing to cross the sea was in her blood still; accepting a mortal life did not change that.

The cold air from the sea blew in across the town, making the trio pull their cloaks closer to their skin. Their arrival in town did little to inspire the interest of the elven smiths who were moving to the pace of their own agenda. Some raised their brow at the presence of the women and paused to look at the Evenstar as someone familiar, though they were uncertain of who she was exactly. Arwen saw no reason to call attention to herself, preferring to see Cirdan the Shipwright with a minimum of fuss before setting out on the final leg of their journey. Once they reached the Havens, everything beyond was uncharted territory for her two companions.

Melia had been true to her word, guiding Arwen and Eowyn to this point utilizing the speediest routes available to them; however, she knew nothing of the lands beyond Angamar. Eowyn knew even less having spent most of her life in the vicinity of Rohan and Gondor. Arwen hoped that Cirdan might be able to direct them toward the fastest route to the Blue Mountains. As if was, the time was fast approaching the next full moon and Arwen did not wish to squander what little there was left of it by trying to find their way north without guidance.

It did not take them long to be directed to Cirdan once they made themselves known at his household. The elves of Mithlond were more than happy to bestow every courtesy to Lord Elrond’s daughter. Cirdan, was as anticipated, at the shore, supervising the work being carried out on the ships that would make the journey to the Undying Lands. He was issuing orders to his ship builders, sending them scurrying about the beach like ants, each with their own purpose to fulfil. Arwen had left Eowyn and Melia in Cirdan’s house in the care of the shipwright’s wife who was even now, offering a warm repast to her guests in the wake of their journey.

"I see you are busy Lord Cirdan," Arwen called to the distinguished elf after he had sent yet another underling running to carry out some unknown duty.

Cirdan looked up at the sound of her voice. His face having become more lined from living so close to the sea, he still wore his thick red hair in a neat braid and he looked more like a man of Gondor than he did an elf. It was the lifestyle of endless devotion to his craft that made him appear more weathered then most elves. He was one of the wises of the elves and a good friend to her father. Arwen had not had much opportunity to see him since before the War of the Ring until her wedding and her thoughts were not entirely focussed on her guest on that particular occasion.

"Evenstar?" Cirdan exclaimed with a mixture of shock and genuine delight. "What in the name of Manwe are you doing here child?" He asked as they met in a warm embrace.

"I have business in the Blue Mountains," she explained, not particularly eager to tell him about the terrible quest she had embarked upon to save her child.

"Business?" Cirdan stared at her with no small measure of disbelief. "Do you expect me to believe that you have traveled halfway across Middle Earth on business? Is the King with you?" His brows knotted as he awaited his answer.

"No," she shook her head. "I travel with Lady Eowyn of Ithilien and a Ranger of Angmar named Melia. Estel is in the White City."

"What business could you possibly have in the Blue Mountains?" Cirdan asked, finding this whole matter strange to say the least. It was not safe for three women to be travelling alone in the greater wilderness of Middle Earth, even if one of those was the Shield Maiden of Rohan and the other was a Ranger. Not when the third member of their party was the Queen of the Reunified Kingdoms.

"I beseech you not to ask me that," Arwen pleaded with him. "There is great darkness at work here Lord Cirdan, darkness that watches me closely and I dare not speak my intent lest he is watching. Only know that I must go there and I require your assistance in finding the speediest path to my destination."

"Does the King know of this darkness?" Cirdan asked, not ready to let the matter rest, not when her eyes were filled with such intense fear.

"Yes," she lied because in truth, she had no idea whether or not Galadriel would tell Estel what she had done. "I go with his blessing."

"The Blue Mountains is a dangerous place," Cirdan confessed after a lengthy pause trying to decide how he should respond.

"I must go nonetheless," she said firmly.

"No you must not," Cirdan retorted because he did not believe the Evenstar understood what kind of danger lay awaiting her in the Blue Mountains. "There is something that you do not know about the Mountains, something that has only arisen in recent months."

Arwen felt her insides grow cold for inwardly, she suspected that it was only a matter of time before the evil heads of the Enemy's agents again rose to plague her on this quest. "What is it Cirdan? What is it that you are afraid to tell me?"

"The elves of Lindon have been attempting to deal with the problem themselves," he said quietly, unable to meet her gaze. With all the trouble that Sauron had caused and with so much blood spilled by men in waging the war against Mordor, we did not even know what evils had been arising closer to home. Not until some of the elven villages in the far north had been razed to the ground, by what menace we do not know. We have sent expeditions to deal with the danger but so far our parties have not returned and since we would no longer intend to remain on these shores…."

"You sought to leave the problem as it stood?" Arwen stared at him in nothing less than horror.

"No," Cirdan retorted shocked that she could think such a thing. "We were going to wait until your father and the others have left for the Undying lands so that we could place our full attention to the problem. Whatever has caused the destruction has not ventured beyond the realm of the villages and is content to remain in place for the time."

"That does not mean anything," Arwen returned. "Whatever lies in wait there could merely be preparing itself for another assault, one that is even more terrible then the initial strole."

"I know that," Cirdan replied, unable to meet her gaze for he was no happier at his choices then she. However he did honestly intend to deal with the situation once he had completed the task of building ships for the elves that intended to depart these shores in a matter of weeks. "I will turn my attention to it in due course but for the moment, I do not have the time for anything else other than to convince you not to go."

"You cannot steer me from this course," she replied, looking as if he were an alien creature she had never before met.

Whatever his reasons, she could not abide his choice to let the trouble in the north gain malignancy with each passing day by ignoring its existence. Estel would never tolerate such a situation and it was at this moment more than any other since the War of the Ring that Arwen understood why men found it difficult to trust elves. Before the War of the Ring, it was Gondor who kept Sauron’s dark forces from spilling forth into the rest of Middle Earth while the elves merely held back, manipulating things from behind the scenes, doing little to stem the tide of evil until the war truly began. What Cirdan was doing was no different, holding back until the last moment, allowing the situation to fester until its disease became unstoppable.

"Arwen, nothing could be that important for you to make this journey," Cirdan pleaded, having no wish to see her enter the fray.

"You are wrong Cirdan," she met his eyes full of emotion because he was the one who did not understand. "There is no question of whether or not I should go to the north. That was decided long before I arrived here. I mean to go there with or without your aid, if it is without then so be it but I will not be deterred from my course."

"You know that I will do all that I can for you," Cirdan responded, seeing something in her eyes that told him she had good reason for her choices and he had no right to keep her from going. "Even if you are determined to do this thing."

"I am glad," she rested her hand on his shoulder. "I need your help and I do not have much time."

Cirdan saw the look on her face and could well believe the urgency he saw there. He did not know why she was making this journey but she was the Evenstar, daughter of Lord Elrond and had undoubtedly inherited her father’s strong spirit. If she chose to go north in order to face whatever dangers lay in wait there, then there was nothing he could do but help her as best he could.

"All right," he finally conceded the point, understanding that there was no convincing her to alter her course. "What do you require of me?"

* * *

It was early evening when the Fellowship arrived in Hobbiton.

Although Gandalf had been visiting Frodo and Bilbo in the Shire for many years, it was the first time that Aragorn had been any closer than the Brandywine Bridge. The Fellowship had often heard the hobbits speak of their home and were glad to see that none of the stories told were an exaggeration. The sun had started to sink behind the horizon when the visitors took the familiar road to Bag End but they were able to see the rolling fields of green and the simple but quaint hobbit homes that lay nestled under lush grassy mounds. The Shire was very much like the hobbits that dwelt there, modest, unassuming and discreet.

Frodo was eager to offer the Fellowship the hospitality of Bag End because until now he had always been the visitor when amongst them. Though Bag End was in no way comparable to the splendor of Lothlorien or Minas Tirith, the hobbit was proud of his home and he wanted to share it with the friends he was certain he would never see again if he accepted Gandalf’s offer to cross the Western Sea. Frodo had not told Sam of his conversation with the wizard on the subject mostly because he was uncertain how Sam would take the news. The hobbit was a devoted friend and though he ceased to be a servant to Frodo a long time ago, he would not understand in the same manner that he had not when Frodo attempted to leave him behind during the quest. If he decided to go then his parting with Sam would be the hardest of them all.

Frodo brushed these thoughts aside for the moment because he had not come to any real decision about leaving the Shire (so he told himself anyway) and concentrated on the pleasure of this small break in their journey that would see him home for a night. Sam was also just as eager to get back to Bag End although he was slightly disappointed that Rosie would not be there. Aragorn had promised to provide her with escorts to the Shire when she decided to leave Minas Tirith and Frodo knew for a fact that Rosie was intending to take in some of the sights of the White City during her stay there.

In the meantime, Sam, Merry and Pippin respectively had taken it upon themselves to explain all aspects, history, present status and current occupation of every feature they happened upon in the Shire. Frodo looked over his shoulder and saw Gandalf shaking his head. The wizard had spent enough time around hobbits to know that it was very ill advised to let them start talking about the Shire in any shape or form. More often than not, it was almost impossible to silence them on the subject once that dam had been released, as the rest of the Fellowship was no doubt starting to learn.

Legolas was listening politely because it was never in the elf’s disposition to be rude if he could help it. Gimli actually appeared interested while Aragorn’s expression seemed to have glazed over and Faramir feigned interest by occasionally making a non-committal grunt that he hoped proved to the others his attention was focussed on their explanations. Frodo considered rescuing the two men, after all, they had enough to worry about with the fates of their wives unknown, to have to suffer the torment of being deluged with every aspect of the Shire’s existence. However, his attention was soon called away by the appearance of Farmer Maggot who was on his way home.

The fact that the man was on foot meant that he had mostly had a little too much to drink at the tavern and was sensible enough not to attempt to ride home. At the sight of him, Frodo noted Merry and Pippin cringing in their saddles somewhat. After all this time, with everything they had done of late to prove they were now respectable members of the community, the duo still felt a little self conscious around the farmer whose crop was once their favorite spoil. Farmer Maggot remembered their mischief enough though Frodo thought that the glare he aimed in their direction was mostly to amuse himself than any real feeling of malice. For Frodo and Sam, he was all smiles, even if he was a little uncertain about the companions that traveled with the master of Bag End. However, he did recognise Gandalf the Grey and was accustomed to the eccentricities of the Bagginses, who since Bilbo had always made strange acquaintances.

"Hello Farmer Maggot," Frodo greeted politely, wondering if the man actually had a first name since he always voiced the preference for ‘Farmer Maggot’.

"Hello Frodo," Maggot beamed. "Hello Sam, I see you’ve brought some worldly folk with you to the Shire. Hello Gandalf."

"Hello Farmer Maggot." Gandalf said graciously. "How goes the crop this year?"

"Oh very well," Maggot replied enthusiastically, pleased by the inquiry. "The crops much better now that I don’t have ragamuffins scrounging the best of it." He glanced at Merry and Pippin as he made that statement.

"Maggot," Frodo glanced at the others with him. "I’d like to meet …"

"Strider," Aragorn spoke before Frodo had the chance to introduce him as the king. He would rather be known for himself while he was here and not as King ElessarTelcontari and all the other titles he had acquired in his kingship.

"Please to meet you Strider," Maggot grinned. "Would you be an elf?" He stared at Legolas.

"Yes," Legolas nodded, supposing that the ears were difficult to hide.

"I saw an elf once," Maggot replied. "It was back when I was younger and I went to Bree."

Before Maggot recounted the whole story as hobbits tended to do if given the opportunity, Frodo went on to introduce Faramir and Gimli. Maggot seemed genuinely pleased to meet the new arrivals and asked them questions about the lands from which they originated. Since the War of the Ring and the mischief of Saruman in the Shire, the hobbits were not as inclined to ignore the goings on in the outside world as much as they used to. While they would always be an insular people, the general feeling that it was wise to keep an eye on events beyond the Shire if only for the reasons of safety, was now a popular one.

"Well this must be the season for it," Maggot said after awhile.

"What do you mean?" Frodo asked.

"Well that’s two elves in as many days," Maggot replied innocently.

"Another elf has been through here?" Sam inquired because elves did not normally come through the Shire unless there was a very good reason for it. Even when they traveled to the Grey Havens, they did so without ever entering Hobbiton itself.

"Yes, one of three fine ladies," Maggot replied.

"Ladies?" Aragorn asked, his interest suddenly sparked with hope. "When?"

"About two days ago," the hobbit responded sensing some urgency in the question. "One was an elf I’m told, very pretty. Old Proudfoot said they stayed at his inn, and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, long dark hair and eyes like pools of sapphire."

"Arwen!" Aragorn exclaimed knowing that description of his wife all too well. "Arwen was here!"

"We don’t know that," Faramir retorted, not daring to hope such a thing without further evidence. "He said there were three of them. Arwen and Eowyn left Minas Tirith alone. What about the other two?" He looked at Maggot for explanation hoping that Aragorn was right that somehow in the course of their travels, Arwen and Eowyn had acquired another companion to accompany them on their quest.

"I don’t know very much," Maggot replied, able to relate only what he had been told by Old Proudfoot. "The other two were dressed like men, wearing breeches, one carrying a sword and the other, some strange sort of weapon, what did Proudfoot say she called it?" He thought hard for a moment before his eyes lit up with the answer. " That’s right, a crossbow."

"A crossbow?" Legolas frowned, not recognising the description. "What manner of weapon is that?"

"An Easterling weapon," Aragorn volunteered. During the War of the Ring, some of the Easterlings of Harad who fought for Sauron had employed such weapons.

"A strange turn of events," Gandalf remarked contemplatively. "It appears that Arwen is capable of finding allies as well as you Strider."

"Well at least its good news!" Pippin exclaimed. "She’s alive!"

Aragorn did not speak for a moment because he was too overcome with relief that Arwen still lived. He had refused to believe that she could be dead from fear of sheer despair if it were true. The king exhaled deeply, dispelling with it the remaining constriction that had gripped his heart since he arrived at Imraldis to learn that Arwen had not arrived. He had fought desperately the urge to submit to reason, to confess to the reality that she might have fallen to the peril within the Misty Mountains and knew he would die if it were the truth. However, now he had proof that the only thing that meant anything to him still walked among the living and in knowing that, felt himself suffused with the strength to continue.

It was a feeling well shared by Faramir whose silence also expressed his intense gratitude for the continued survival of his wife and both men touched each other’s eyes briefly, feeling a kinship that was deeper than blood at that moment.

"Come on then," Frodo spoke up, noticing the awkwardness of the moment that Farmer Maggot could not understand but all the others felt, wishing to propel them past it because they should be rejoicing the news. "If we’re going after them, we’d best get on home."

"Here, here," Merry agreed, glad to know that Eowyn was alive and well. Even though he did not love her as her husband, they had fought together and he considered her a friend. Now that they were assured of her safety, he wanted nothing more than to celebrate that fact with the others who cared about her.

"Lead on then," Aragorn smiled and it was the first one he had produced in the last few days that actually warmed his face. "Let’s see Bag End."

* * *

While it was common for the northlands to be much colder than the rest of Middle Earth, Arwen who had traveled this far north in the past, found it unusually chilled. As they journeyed towards the Blue Mountains, the iciness in the air continued to grow until frost began to appear on the leaves of trees they passed. The sharp cold invaded the warmth of their cloaks and pierced their skins as the ground become harder and the woods continued to descend into a premature winter. Arwen began to notice something else as she drew closer and closer to the mountains and that was a decided lack of any sort of life. She heard no singing voice of birds, felt none of the quickening pulses of the smaller creatures that dwelt upon this land. It felt curiously abandoned.

Uneasiness began to seep into Arwen the further along their path they continued. It was not long however, before the surrounding woods with their silence and absence of all things living save themselves, affected her other two companions as well. Their rest periods became shorter since none of them were overly anxious to close their eyes and when sleep did come, it was under one of their number’s watchful gaze. Throughout all this ominous foreboding, Arwen watched the path of the moon in the sky and noted with growing alarm that the time between its reaching fullness was dwindling rapidly. The journey here had taken almost three weeks and Arwen knew that they would reach the Enemy with barely enough time to spare to formulate the strategy to kill him.

They saw no evidence of the threat that had driven the elves living in this part of Middle Earth southwards but there was no doubt that it existed. The woods they crossed reeked of death and desolation. Something unnatural had seized the land and was unrelenting in its bony grip. Arwen could feel its tendril clawing up her back, cold to the touch and the babe inside her stirred as well, perhaps feeling the threat to its existence its mother was trying so desperately to prevent. Eowyn and Melia spoke nothing of their own fears but Arwen sensed they were anxious for their guard was almost always watching for danger now. Whatever threat had worried Cirdan so much was fast approaching.

They could all feel it.

They had expected to find remnants of the towns abandoned or destroyed by the unseen menace, anticipating charred destruction to meet them when they finally happened upon them. However, nothing of the kind greeted them. Instead of finding a community leveled by fire, the scene that met them was entirely the opposite. The town whose name Arwen did not know and would never learn was covered in sheets of ice. To look at it, one would have been forgiven in assuming that someone had embarked upon the laborious task of sculpturing a representation of the town in ice. Every structure was covered in sheets of ice, even the poor unfortunates who had been caught in the disaster.

"What in the name of Valar happened here?" Eowyn asked rhetorically as she swept her gaze across the town.

They had climbed off their horses, leading the animals through the town so that they could investigate what had taken place here in hopes of avoiding the same fate if they encountered the cause of the tragedy. Anything that had not been encased in ice was brittle to the touch. Melia’s efforts to kick away a doll that had been lying on the ground had resulted in the complete disintegration of the object. It crumbled around her boot as if a blast of cold had turned it into glass. The ranger’s shock was obvious and after that no one was terribly eager to touch anything that was not covered in ice.

"A freak blizzard perhaps?" Melia asked. The lands where she had come from were warm where this kind of cold was almost never heard of.

"I could believe a snow storm could cause some ice, but nothing natural could have done this," Arwen responded as she paused at a seemingly unaffected bush and touched one of the leaves on its branches. The leaf crumbled in her hands as easily as the toy had disintegrated beneath Melia’s foot. The fragment of green in her hand felt like sand or ash, she could not tell which for sure, only that it frightened her. It was no small thing to destroy life in this fashion and the unnaturalness of it could not be ignored.

"We should keep going," Eowyn stated. "I have no wish to encounter what did this whilst we are here. We have more important matters to attend."

"Normally I would be the first to agree with you Eowyn," Melia replied softly, her grip on her horse’s tether was tight. Her nails were digging into her palm but she hardly noticed it. This place frightened her more than orcs or any other evil she had encountered in the lands of Rhun since leaving her home in Far Harad. She wanted to run away from this place, to ride back to the safety of the woods she knew in Angmar but it was impossible. She had made a pledge to the queen and she would see her oath through but also because during the course of their travels, it had ceased to become an obligation, as it was now an act of friendship. Here were two women with whom she shared a great deal, who waited for no man to decide their destiny and who knew what it was to remain true to themselves instead of complying with what was expected of them.

"I too wish to ride away from here and not look back," Melia gazed at her two companions. "But what did this awaits us ahead on our journey. The only thing we will accomplish if we ride hastily forward is run headlong into what destroyed this place."

"You are right of course," Eowyn frowned, despising the sense of Melia’s words because she felt similar anxiety being in this icy graveyard. "However, I do not think that there is anything to find. What leveled this place has moved on, assuming that some manner of evil did this."

"This is no aberration of weather," Arwen declared. "Something or someone wrought this destruction. I am certain that the way is being cleared for the Enemy."

"Cleared?" Melia stared at her.

"Yes," Arwen nodded taking another long look at the town because it was only the prelude to what was coming. "This is the work of the Enemy I am certain of it. He seeks to ensure that no one knows of his existence and this means destroying those who might be able to carry word of him to the rest of Middle Earth."

"To ensure that when he does emerge, he will do so to the complete surprise of those who might if, forewarned, be able to stop him," Eowyn concluded.

"Your child might be the first step," Melia pointed out. "If what you tell me is true about the Enemy attempting to infuse your child with Melkor’s spirit, then it is possible he intends to take Middle Earth, to prepare it for Melkor when your babe grows to manhood."

Arwen closed her eyes at the horrific plan and knew that both Melia and Eowyn were right about their suppositions. The Enemy would create a kingdom worthy of Melkor and when her son grew up to be King, he would inherit that dark empire. It would also mean that the Enemy would have to eliminate all those she cared about who were still left within his reach in order to achieve his plan.

"I believe you are right," Arwen nodded when she finally looked at them again. "In that case, we cannot delay in reaching the Forest of Brethil. Despite what has happened here, our best hope of averting this terrible outcome is to find the Sword of Turin."

The others seemed to agree with her and as they mounted their horses, preparing to leave the town behind, Arwen prayed it was altogether as easy she claimed.

* * *

With the frozen town behind them, the trio pressed on with the temperature dropping even more sharply the closer they came to the Blue Mountains. The air was not merely icy but each breath spoken produced small clouds of vapor and very soon they were shifting through their packs to put on the heavier clothing that Cirdan had insisted they take with them when he realised they could not be deterred from their course. Throughout their journey, they saw further evidence of the calamity that had befallen the nameless town earlier. Other smaller settlements had been overtaken in similar fashion and the woods they traveled through to reach the mountains bore the same malaise. It was almost impossible to make a fire when they camped for the night owing to the wood being too damp or too frozen for the attempt.

The Blue Mountains was named such because it appeared, from a distance, a range of mountains bathed in a hue that was not unlike the shimmer of the ocean. Against the backdrop of perpetually grey skies, it was a reminder that beauty still existed in the world, even in this remote place. For some days now, it had loomed on the horizon, appearing so out of reach as they rode towards it and the Forest of Brethil. Slowly but surely, it began to grow in their consciousness as the distance between them and the mountains began to diminish. The mood among the triumvirate was becoming tense as the Forest entered the realm of reach and the feeling of peril saturated their skins as surely as the cold.

At night fall, Eowyn stared at the moon above her head and saw that it was still a crescent shape in the skies but its appearance alone was sign enough that their time was drawing short. The Shield Maiden of Rohan estimated they had only days left to them to reach the Enemy but fortunately, they should make the Forest of Brethilby mid afternoon. So far what had destroyed the town and turned the lands beyond it into a frozen wasteland had yet to show itself though Eowyn did not know whether or not this was a good thing. She kept watch as Arwen and Melia slept, thinking that the Ranger was fortunate indeed to have given her heart to no one. At least she would not know this ache that Arwen felt constantly and Eowyn had almost succeeded in ignoring except for moments like this.

She missed Faramir more than she could stand.

Although she had spoken nothing of her need for him because a warrior had to remain focussed when embarking upon the quest they had, she did miss him terribly. Her thoughts kept drifting to his wry smile and the manner in which he would shrug away all their troubles even when they seemed intolerable because in his reckoning, surviving the War of the Ring had been blessing enough.

 _Everything after that_ , he often said with that damned smile of his that could melt her so easily,  _was easy_.

Until now, Eowyn had not realised how terrible it would be to die without seeing her husband again and yet as they were at the eve of reaching their destination, Eowyn knew that it was very likely that she, or Melia might not survive the quest. She drew in her breath to dispel such thoughts away because she would only come undone if she continued this way. She had to believe she would survive or else there was no reason to go on. A warrior who believed she would die would often enough find a way for such a thing to happen.

She was still thinking of Faramir when suddenly she heard something moving. At first, she considered it might be one of the sleepers tossing and turning. Melia, she and Arwen had come to learn during their travels, did not sleep well. The Ranger was often plagued with nightmares that often forced her awake, wide eyed and short of breath. She did not explain what she had seen in her slumber that frightened her so and they did not ask. As they drew closer to the mountains, Arwen too seemed to have endured a few demons plaguing the night but Eowyn had a good inkling what was the source of them, so as with Melia, she did not inquire.

The sound was fast yet hard to discern. Long and continuous, it did not cease, merely grew in intensity as if it were approaching. Eowyn stood up, slowly unsheathing her weapon as she searched the dark woods around them. Firewood had been scarce so they had not left the campfire burning, a thing Eowyn regretted for they were in need of light. The sound was odd, it seemed strangely familiar but she could not place it exactly and it was growing closer.

"Arwen, Melia!" Eowyn hissed waking them up with that one sharp call.

Melia awoke first, her Ranger instincts bringing her swiftly out of her slumber. She reached immediately for the crossbow that lay within easy reach of her sleeping place and was on her feet, ready to face whatever danger Eowyn had discovered to raise the alarm. Not far from her was Arwen who had also wrapped her hand around the hilt of her sword, her eyes watchful of the danger now that she was aware of it. In the meantime, the sound that had inspired Eowyn into waking them was all around them and it was closing in on them. Arwen understood now what had made her sleep so restless. Even in the dreamscape, she had been able to sense the impending danger.

"What is that?" Melia asked. She readied her crossbow to fire, but was disconcerted by the lack of a target.

"I don’t know," Eowyn frowned, aware of the sound but unable to identify it exactly.

Arwen listened closely. She could feel the peril closing in on them. Its breath was close. She could not say for certain what it was only that it bore sinister intent towards them. "They are near."

"They?" Melia stared at her.

"They’re all around us," Eowyn stated because she could hear them coming. "Arwen, light the fire." She ordered the queen because near the flame, Arwen might be more protected than she and Melia would as they attempted to spearhead the fight and slightly protect Arwen from the danger, whatever it was.

Arwen nodded, hurrying quickly to the center of their campsite. She began igniting the cold embers of the fire. There was still enough wood left to burn because they had been sparring of the meager supply they had found. She worked quickly and felt the first hint of warmth from the newborn fire when suddenly; something tore out of the darkness with a loud screech. The radiating glow of amber spread throughout the campsite as the danger presented itself fully.

Its size was almost as large as the spiders that had overtaken the village of Cadhras Nar. It moved with just as much agility. All three women knew exactly what they were dealing with the moment they laid eyes upon the first creature that emerged. Its body was covered in scales that glimmered under the radiance of the fire. It did not move so much as its slithered and attached to its long body was a decidedly serpentine head. Slit irises glared at them from red eyes and as it opened its mouth, they saw that it bore a mouthful of fangs. The first of it to appear to the party of three, it stood nearest to Eowyn and bore its fangs as it prepared to strike.

"It’s a worm!" Melia shouted as she took aim and fired.

The bolt from her cross bow struck the creature in the neck and it turned away from Eowyn and hissed furiously at Melia in its pain. The angry screech that tore through the air snapped Eowyn out of her shock and the Lady of Ithilien acted swiftly. She ran forward as it was distracted by its pain and swung her sword wide and hard. The blade sliced through the air before striking flesh. It took every ounce of her strength to penetrate the skin but worms were the young of dragons. Fully grown, there was no way she would have been able to penetrate its thick hide. However, in this state it was vulnerable but no less danger. Eowyn saw its blood spraying in all directions as she cleaved its head from its body. Its scream of agony cut short.

However, it was not alone.

Hearing the death cry of one of their own brought the others forward. Melia turned around to see another worm emerging behind her. She wasted no time in firing a bolt. This one striking the creature in the face and forcing it to recoil in pain as steel tore through its muscle. In the rear of her vision she saw Arwen being approached by one of the worms. The queen was no novice in protecting herself and she immediately stabbed the creature with her sword. Her blade penetrated its flesh easily enough. The creature howled in pain as Arwen swung at it again. However, the worm did not flee even though its blood was spilling forth from it. It seemed to hold its ground before pulling back and widening its jaw, in readiness to lunge.

"Get out of its way!" Melia shouted, a flash of insight prompting her to speak.

Arwen reacted instinctively to her warning and attempted to leapt out of the way when suddenly the worm ejected something from his mouth she thought at first to be venom or some other poison but was to soon learn otherwise. Her skin prickled with cold as the blast of frost escaped its mouth and killed the fire immediately. Steam hissed from the doused fire as icy cold waves of air extinguished it with little or no effort at all.

Eowyn rushed forward to aid Arwen, slashing her sword about wildly to clear a path towards the queen. However, the unexpected trait exhibited by the worm a moment ago was in no way unique to it only. With a sinking feeling, Eowyn realised that somehow cold drakes had emerged from the deep places of the world to plague Middle Earth once more. When these worms grew to maturity, they would become dragons whose ability would be to either freeze or burn down everything in sight. Eowyn threw herself out of the path of one such creature’s deadly breath when it breathed its iciness in her direction. She barely escaped the hiss of cold before she pierced the creature through the neck with her sword. Its blood poured into the earth before it crumpled to the floor very much dead.

Arwen saw Eowyn’s efforts to reach her and decided that the Lady of Ithilien had difficulty enough saving her own skin. The queen of Gondor recovered her balance after avoiding the initial icy breath of the worm. It turned its gaze in her direction once more determined to have her. On its slithering belly, it sidled toward her quickly, its body moving in thick loops. She saw it flicking its massive tail in her direction, trying to knock it down before she jumped out of its reach. It took the opportunity to lunge at her, jaws snapping. Arwen staggered back to avoid it and dropped on to her behind when a rock obstructed her retreat.

She let out a sharp scream as the creature’s jaws came at her. She could see its teeth and feel its cold breath against her skin as it loomed in for the kill. Arwen forced her sword between them, keeping it poised between its jaw and her throat. Yet she knew she was terribly vulnerable because all it had to do was exhale and she would turn to ice as those poor unfortunates in that frozen village. The worm regarded her for a second, its eyes glaring at her malevolently when suddenly; something drew its attention from her. It retracted its head from before her and screeched angrily. Arwen took advantage of its distraction and scrambled out of its reach. She looked behind only when she was clear of it’s breath and saw the reason for its preoccupation.

Somehow, Eowyn had landed on the beast’s back, her legs coiled around its body as she raised her sword above her head and plunged the blade into the creatures skull. Its death cry was brief and its blood flowed freely when Eowyn pulled out her sword. All life drained from its body as it collapsed to the ground, with Eowyn astride it as if it were a horse. Eowyn climbed off the dead creature’s back, completing the journey to Arwen in order to protect her. However, Arwen’s attention was no longer upon Eowyn, her legs were carrying her towards Melia.

Melia’s skill with the crossbow almost rivaled Legolas Greenleaf with the long bow, Arwen thought as Melia fired bolt after bolt from her Easterling weapon at the worms coming at them. She had managed to keep two of them at bay with her arrows but she was fast running out of them. Arwen could see the worry in her face as she continued to strike fatal wounds in the worms coming at her. Very soon, she would have exhausted her supply and be forced to rely upon her sword. One of the worms covered in a litany of bolts was still determined to have the Ranger even though its other companion had given up its advance and was writhing in pain from the multiple piercing of its skin.

The worms blew its deadly breath at Melia who barely escaped it when she leapt out of its way. A rock that had been behind her when she jumped took the full force of the cold blast and its sudden state of freezing shattered it completely, sending jagged shards in all directions. Melia landed on her side, her crossbow slipping out of her hands as she fell. Losing her weapon, she scrambled for the sword that she rarely used but carried nonetheless. Arwen thought quickly, aware that she had only a second to act before the worm killed Melia. Throwing her sword like a spear, Arwen watched the blade fly through the air to penetrate what passed for the worm’s neck. The sword kept going until it was buried to the hilt.

The worm attempted to screech but it did not manage as what passed for its vocal chords were severed. By this time, Melia had recovered enough to thrust her sword into the belly of the beast, pulling back her sword and spilling its innards into the permafrost that covered ground. The creature closed its eyes finally and collapsed to the ground. It moved no more as its blood flowed from the wounds on its body, creating a pool around it where it had fallen.

For a few seconds, no one spoke as they stood amongst the carcasses of the creatures that had almost killed them. All three were still stunned by the fact that they had survived the onslaught. Eowyn had dispatched the wounded beast that had attempted retreat when Arwen was saving Melia’s life. However, she was not terribly proud of that fact since Melia had done the same for her as well as Eowyn. They were simply grateful to be alive. For the moment at least, Arwen sensed the danger had retreated even though it was not entirely gone. She could feel it close and as she glanced in the direction of the darkened mountain range they would soon be required to enter, she knew where it was coming from.

"Are they all dead over there?" Eowyn asked Melia as the duty of ensuring the worms were dead not merely wounded was concluded.

"Yes," Melia nodded slowly, retrieving her bolts from the dead carcasses at the same time. It was grisly work and she had no wish to be any closer to the fledgling dragons but there was no other way for her to replace her bolts with newer ones if she lost them, especially not here, at the edge of the world. "They will trouble us no more."

"I have heard of these worms," Eowyn replied, her gaze sweeping across their latest battlefield. "I never thought I would ever see them again. I always thought Smaug was the last of them."

"These are not dragons," Melia pointed out. "They are far too young. We should not have been able to penetrate their hides with our swords, if what I am told about dragon scales be the truth. They are harder than mithrail. If I recall correctly, the only way to kill a dragon is to pierce its belly, the one vulnerable place upon their bodies. We did more than that here."

"The Enemy is responsible for this," Arwen said softly. "He is drawing out these creatures from the deepest depths of the ancient world."

"Well we know at least what became of those towns," Eowyn sighed as she went to a shrub that had been treated to the worm’s deadly breath and crushed a branch in her hand. It broke as if it were a dry leaf, turning to powder in her hands. The Shield Maiden of Rohan dusted her palms of the fragments, clear disgust in her face as she did so. "These things have invaded them and turned them into ice, not to mention those that Cirdan sent to deal with the problem. If we search hard enough, we would probably find their bodies as well."

"I suppose," Arwen retorted unhappily. "I know at least why they have kept people away from here."

"Why?" Melia asked, wiping blood from one of the bolts and looking none too happy about it.

"Because they are the guardians of Turin’s sword," Arwen met both their gazes as she stated. "They are keeping those who might be able to use it against the Enemy away from the weapon. They have killed everyone to ensure that it remains beyond the reach of others."

"Beyond our reach," Eowyn declared. "So there’s more of these awaiting us in Brethril?"

It was a question but Eowyn did not really expect an answer nor did Arwen choose to provide any.

"Not just these," Melia said after moment. "These are young worms and there are many of them. The Enemy could not have simply conjured them out of nothingness; these beasts must have been born in some fashion. What I want to know is, if these are the infants, where is the mother that sired them?"


	8. The Sword of Turn

 

Melia studied the tracks in the ground, surprised by how clearly they appeared in the dirt around the campsite. She supposed it should not to have been any surprise to her that she should find them so easily since they had seen no other living creature in this realm to disturb the tracks left behind by the worms. Following the attack, the triumvirate had snatched a few hours of uneasy sleep after moving their campsite away from the scene of dead beasts. At first light they rose and prepared their horses for travel, having a purpose now that was more than just reaching the mountains. Melia had never seen a worm in her life but she knew the tracks before her could be nothing else. One simply had to discount what they could not be to know what they were.

"Are you certain about this?" She asked looking over her shoulder at Arwen and Eowyn who were waiting behind her with their horses.

"The worms were sent here by the Enemy. If you can track them, they’ll lead us to the sword," Arwen stated firmly, refusing to believe anything else. She could feel it in her bones and she was certain that once they found where these creatures had come from, they would either find the Enemy or the Sword of Turin. However, she was certain that it was the Sword of Turin for these creatures clearly dominated the land that they had driven the elves out to acquire. Arwen found it too much of a coincidence that the worms had sought them out after so many days of travelling in their realm unhindered, only when they approached the Forests of Brethril. There was purpose to the attack last night that was more than simply protecting their territory from invaders, Arwen was certain.

Melia exchanged a glance with Eowyn who merely shrugged in response. She was no more certain of this course then Melia but she trusted Arwen’s instincts because it had saved their lives on more than one occasion during this journey. She was not about to question it now, not no matter how uneasy she felt about it. She could see Melia wanted her to say something about this to Arwen because the Ranger was uncomfortable about placing so much faith upon the tracks of creatures that she had never seen before last night.

However, while Eowyn felt just as uneasy about this as Melia, hers reasons for trepidation were entirely different from the Ranger’s. She knew that this was the right path to take; that following the worms to their domain would yield the prize they had made this journey to find. But whether or not they could claim it was another thing entirely. Melia had been correct when she pointed out that the worms were young, they had not grown any of the limbs that would distinguish them as drakes. Such fledglings could not have been but a year or more if her understanding of dragon growth was at all accurate. Somewhere at the heart of their lair, Eowyn anticipated they would find the drake that had sired this nest of worms.

And she would not be happy to learn that they had slain a good many of her children last night.

Unfortunately, like Arwen, Eowyn was aware that the time left to them was running short and to find the Enemy required taking a gamble. Melia was still too much the Ranger in service of her queen to place Arwen's life in the path of unnecessary danger and while Eowyn agreed with that thinking to a certain extent, it was not merely Arwen’s life that Eowyn was attempting to keep safe. It was the future King of Gondor and their very existence in Middle Earth if Melkor’s spirit should be allowed to escape the void. As much as she understood Melia’s reasons for caution, Eowyn could not support her wish to rethink their present course.

"Yes track them," Eowyn found herself saying after a long pause. "We do not have much time and if these beasts are guarding the Sword of Turin then we will have to deal with them eventually. I prefer it if it is on our own terms rather than on theirs."

Melia exhaled deeply and chose to abide by the decision of her two companions, even though the notion of following these worms back to their nest was rather a daunting one. However, she had made an oath to protect the queen and she would follow it through, despite her objections. Without saying another word, she turned her attention to the tracks before her and began tracing the path the worms had taken before reaching the campsite. With the tether of Lomelindi in hand, she followed the nondescript marks in the dirt as Arwen and Eowyn mounted their own horses and remained a short distance behind her so that they would not interfere with any of the tracks she was attempting to decipher.

As the day deepened, it was soon made clear that the meandering tracks were leading them straight toward the foothills surrounding the Blue Mountains. Its shadows fell over them and made the air colder, though none of them truly noticed it. What they had seen the night before had chilled them to the bone more than the cold air ever could manage. Melia continued to lead, showing an almost elven skill in tracking but there was no special insight in how she managed to find her way. Her father taught the craft to her and it was a skill she had employed regularly as a Ranger. Arwen and Eowyn considered themselves lucky to have her assistance, though they could tell that she was afraid of where these tracks would lead them.

The trail of the worms took them through the sparse woods that sat beneath the mountain range. From a distance, the mountains had looked enchanting and beautiful but now as they found themselves standing directly at their base, they took on a more sinister appearance that once again reinforced their uneasiness. Jagged peaks stabbed at the sky and the rocks that surrounded it were equally treacherous, threatening to cut them to ribbons if they chose to continue onwards. It was terrain too difficult to navigate with horses for it required the agility of man to move through the protrusions without harm. The Forest of Brethil was said to exist at the foot of the mountain and yet to find it was not as easy. The terrain in which they chose to travel had made the tracks difficult to discern and it was not possible to keep the horses with them as they tried to navigate it.

"We must leave them," Eowyn sighed unhappily.

"I will not take Lomelindi into that," Melia declared firmly as she gazed at the path ahead of them, full of its sharp rocks and equally treacherous briars.

"Then we go on foot," Arwen found herself gazing at the horses. "Can’t we simply leave them here?"

"They will remain for awhile," Eowyn responded. "Eventually they will take the path home."

"The path home is in Lothlorien," Arwen reminded.

"To the nearest human settlement then for that is what they know," Eowyn answered. "Whatever their course, they cannot come with us. We will leave them here and hope that they have sense enough to depart if danger comes."

Melia gazed upon her mare and knew that Lomelindi would wait if Melia left her behind. She ran her fingers against its nose and hoped that the horse understood that this abandonment was for its own good. She wrapped the bridle around the pommel of the saddle and turned the animal’s head away from her gently, hoping Lomelindi would understand the reason for this action. The horse trotted away to join the other two that had been left at the clearing where there was grass and relatively safe lands for such animals.

"She will find you again," Arwen said sympathetically, her hand touching the Ranger’s shoulder in support when Melia returned to them in order to resume their trek up the mountain. "I am certain it."

"I have no doubt that she will find me," Melia whispered. "I just hope that she does not wait too long if I am dead. She has been my faithful companion for many years, I would not rest easy even in death to know that she was languishing in wait for my return."

As much as Eowyn wanted to say words of similar kindness to Melia, they could not afford to remain in one place too long. Perhaps the drakes preferred to move by night, explaining the lack of sighting throughout the day or perhaps they were being lead into a trap, whatever the explanation, Eowyn did not wish to find out the hard way. The Forest of Brethil awaited them and though the thick, shield of briar seemed daunting, they had to begin making their way through it.

"I’ll take the lead," Eowyn said boldly as she unsheathed her sword and slash at the first thorny branch in their path. "Arwen, stay behind me and close. Melia you take the rear."

"I do not always need your protection Eowyn," Arwen frowned as she fell behind the shield maiden of Rohan. She hated the idea that her friends were placing themselves at such risk for her welfare. She was not herself helpless and was able to defend herself. "I can take the rear."

"You can," Melia said shortly behind her, "but you’re not going to."

"I thought I was the queen here," Arwen gave the Ranger a look.

"You have no argument of that from me," Eowyn retorted as they continued slowly through the briar that covered the path ahead of them. "However, you will stay behind me."

"And before me," Melia added her voice in.

"I am two thousand years older than either of you," Arwen said imperiously, "what makes you think I cannot protect myself?"

"Nothing," Melia smiled, aware from Eowyn’s tone that the Lady of Ithilien was humoring her friend and she was more than happy to join in. "The race of men is taught to honor their elders, that is why you travel in between us. As the oldest among us, we are duty bound to honor you by ensuring your safety."

The remark drew a little laugh from Eowyn and a dark expression from Arwen. "I suppose you think that is very funny."

"Actually yes," Eowyn chuckled. "Melia’s reply was far more diplomatic than what I would have elected to say."

"Which is?" Arwen raised a brow at her best friend.

"That the future King of Gondor is already plagued by too many threats to have to endure the stubbornness of his mother," she glanced over her shoulder and gave Arwen a look of pure sarcasm. "In other words, stop being a pain, Arwen."

Melia bit her lip in an effort not to laugh especially when she saw the grin that crossed Eowyn’s face after her statement to Arwen.

"With friends like you," Arwen grumbled. "I do not need enemies."

"That is true," Eowyn replied casually taking no offense at her remark since this whole conversation was being carried tongue in cheek. "You are fortunate indeed."

"How does Faramir put up with you?" The queen retorted.

"Oh probably in the same manner as Aragorn does with you," Eowyn gave her a wink of mischief.

Melia rolled her eyes and commented softly, "I am starting to feel very sorry for  _both_  these men."

* * *

The Forest of Brethil may have once been a place with trees and plush meadows but in the dawn of the Fourth Age, it had become nothing more than an enormous field of briars and sharp rocks. It took Eowyn some time to realize that the briars were all that was left of the once great wood and that many of the sharp rocks were the petrified stumps of trees that had been destroyed by whatever menace held sway of the mountains. So far they had seen nothing of the worms that had attacked the night before. Since there was no way of tracking them now, the trio could not even be certain if they were travelling in the right direction.

With dark coming soon, their progress was unacceptably slow with the thorns hooking into their skins and tearing at their flesh even though they had kept themselves well covered. Eowyn felt the exhaustion in her bones as she continued to hack her way through the sharp; hooky branches and knew that she could not give into the weariness she felt. She forced herself to continue, laying waste to the almost impassable barrier underneath the force of her blade, until those who followed her were trudging over the fragmented remains of shattered splinters. She ignored the sweat that stung her eyes or the multitude of cuts to her skin from branches she had been unable to avoid and knew that her suffering was not endured alone for the others were enduring the same torture, though under slightly less strain.

Eowyn looked up at the sky and saw the night descending, they would have to find some place to camp soon although she did not look forward to it. Those worms originated from this very mountain and she was certain that they would emerge when the sun had dropped out of sight completely. Having no idea of the numbers they faced when that emergence took place, Eowyn knew that she would be unable to close her eyes and let herself sleep. She doubted if any of them could. Swinging her blade against the curling twist of sharp branches before her, she prepared to dispatch it the way she had dispatched all others when her blade slice through it easily. The force of her strike made it crumble in mid air and it disintegrated before her feet like ash.

"Everyone be still!" She hissed as she swept her gaze across the terrain. The barrier was dwindling but Eowyn suspected it would not take them long to clear it. Taking another step forward, she gently tapped her sword against the briar before her and saw it crumble in the same fashion. Like brittle glass, something had heaved its icy breath upon the briar obstacle before her. It would be an easy enough task to escape the patch but what lay beyond it was another question all together. The land ahead was a steep incline upwards, framed with rocks and crevasses overgrown with rocks. She knew where they were even if she did not see them.

"We are in danger," Arwen replied though it did not require her elven senses to make that statement for Eowyn and Melia were well aware of it.

"We’re in their nest aren’t we?" Melia guessed accurately.

Eowyn nodded slowly, not daring to answer. She continued forward, aware that they had to escape the confinement around them if they were going to survive this place. She moved through the briar with renewed strength, shattering them easily with her blade because of their frostbitten state. Eowyn worked tirelessly, aware that behind her, both Arwen and Melia were grasping their weapons tight, in readiness for attack should it come before they crossed the barrier. Above the blanket of twilight had descended and Eowyn knew from the tension in Arwen’s face that the creatures were coming. She simply could not bring herself to say it.

"Take my shield," Eowyn declared once they were free of the barrier and she handed Arwen the shield she had not employed much during this journey. However, last night’s encounter with the cold drakes had changed all that. Before setting their horses free, she had taken the shield, a gift from her brother Eomer to use for this very purpose.

"You will need it," Arwen muttered as Eowyn thrust the object into her arms.

"Not as much as you," Eowyn retorted and turned her eyes to the crevasses that seemed for all purposes benign but she knew to be filled with dark terrors that were soon coming for them. "Use it Arwen," Eowyn said firmly. "Use it to protect yourself. You carry all our futures within your body, you must protect the child even at cost to us."

"Do not ask that of me!" Arwen returned. "I would do anything for my child even give up my life but I won’t allow you to die for me!"

"That choice is not yours to make," Eowyn stated firmly, needing Arwen to understand that whatever feelings she had towards her friends, they were a necessary sacrifice if the greater good was to be accomplished. "Please, if I am to die, I want to know it was for the good of all."

"Can this wait?" Melia shouted and called their attention to the fact that the same slithering sound that had signaled the approach of the worms the night before was returning.

She had no sooner snapped her warning when the first worm emerged out of the crevasse, its cold breath in her face as it lunged towards her, displaying amazing agility for a creature that bore no arms or legs. She dove towards the ground to avoid being frostbitten to death, feeling the jagged rocks on the ground scraping painfully against her elbows and then the front of her body. Somehow she had managed to keep a hold of the crossbow throughout that painful maneuver and though she was certain she had lost some skin in the process, rolled onto her knee and took aim. The bolt from her crossbow struck the creature’s belly and it bellowed with pain.

Its roar brought the rest of its kindred from their hiding places and the triumvirate soon found themselves surrounded by five of the dreaded beasts. Melia fired another bolt at the worm that had attacked her and it slithered forward in a charge of outrage. She jumped to her feet as it came upon her, performing some minor feat of acrobatics when she leapt over its head and landed behind the beast. Turning her weapon upon it, she fired another series of bolts into the worm’s spine, finally stopping it for good. However, the others of its kind did not look upon her efforts kindly and they closed in on her.

"Melia!" Eowyn called out and was already running to the Ranger’s defense. A worm came at her in her effort and she avoid its lashing tail by jumping up once and ensuring she landed on its lengths when she came down again. The creature hissed at her, its jaws snapping at her.

"Eowyn! Drop!" Arwen shouted and Eowyn obeyed immediately, dropping to her knees in time to see Arwen fling her shield towards the creature. The circular plate of steel sliced through the air before meeting the flesh and bone of the worm. The creature screamed in agony and Eowyn found herself scrambling away trying to avoid the spray of blood that came from its grisly end. She stood up shakily and saw Arwen breathing a sigh of relief at her continued existence. However, the queen of Gondor had little time to savor Eowyn’s survival because Melia was valiantly fighting off two worms that were converging upon her.

Arwen came up from behind the two creatures and swung her blade in a wide arch over her shoulder, bringing the sword down upon the midsection of the worm. She put all her strength into it and drove the blade through its flesh until it came to a halt upon the ground. The worm tensed in agony, its scream tearing through her ears as she split it in half. Suddenly a blast of cold enveloped her body and Arwen felt her senses overload with the biting sensation of ice. She tried to turn around but only heard the fog of Eowyn’s scream and as she fell to the ground, she saw Eowyn slashing away at the worm that attacked her from behind. The creature was attempting to evade the flaying frenzy of the shield maiden’s blade but fury had made Eowyn a deadly enemy.

"Arwen!" She felt Melia’s hand around her arm, trying to help her to her feet.

Thanks to her aid, the Ranger had managed to fight off the remaining worm with her own sword, deciding that a more direct approach was necessary to vanquish the beast once and for all. However because Arwen had come to her assistance, the queen had left herself open for attack. Though the worm that had come up behind her had not managed to bathe her in the full vent of its icy breath, what it had done was enough to incapacitate the queen enough to stop her in her tracks.

"I am unhurt," Arwen managed to say through her chattering teeth. The cold was unpleasant and her body was racked with shivers but it was not permanent. Even now, she could feel the warmth returning to her limbs as Melia rubbed her arms hard, attempting to generate enough friction to produce heat. Arwen felt the blood flowing through her body as the biting sting against her skin faded away thanks to Melia’s ministration.

"Did I not tell you that you should have kept the shield?" Eowyn said with a little smile as she retrieved the shield embedded in a worm’s neck. Arwen was accustomed to her using levity to hide her worry and this moment was no exception.

Around them, lay the scattered remains of dead worms and Arwen wondered if they were truly that fortunate to survive another meeting with the dreadful creatures or was a higher power providing them with protection. Whatever the force keeping them alive still, Arwen was not about to question it. She was grateful to be alive.

"If I had not used it, you would not be here to be so smug," Arwen retorted with an equal expression of mischief in her voice.

Eowyn was about to answer when suddenly the ground shook with a tremor that silenced the words in her throat. Small grains of dirt lodged in place around them in the landscape was shaken loose as something that felt like thunder began to approach. Arwen felt her heart pound and if she suffered any ill effects of the worm, they were more or less shunted aside because she sensed what was coming.

"Run!" Arwen cried out.

"Run?" Eowyn declared. "Where?"

There was no place to run unless they return to the briar and there was no telling that what Arwen was sensing and caused such terror in the elf’s eyes would not follow them. Arwen did not answer because her eyes were fixed upon the drake that emerged from one of the crevasses. This was no worm, small and insignificant, this was a cold drake, a thing of claws and teeth. Its red eyes swept across the terrain, taking in the sight of all its dead children before turning her serpentine head towards those who had slaughtered them.

For an instant, none of them could do anything but stare at the massive beast with their mouths open in frozen horror. Only when it took a step towards them, were they forced into motion. Melia raised her crossbow and began firing at the creature. The first bolt that flew through the air struck the creature in its side had little effect. Even a formidable piece of steel was not going to penetrate a drake’s scales. The cold drake shrugged of the bolt as if it was rainwater on its back and Melia watched with growing fear as the metal bolt clattered impotently to the ground.

"Aim for its belly!" Eowyn shouted and wished she had a bow and arrow for those were weapons useful for an enemy such as this.

Melia nodded mutely and resumed her efforts. The creature was closing in on them and the trio found that they had no way to turn except back into the briar that only succeed in trapping them more than offering them an escape. Melia took careful aim with one of the few bolts she had left and let it fly at the drake. The projectile flew through the air and this time, could not be as easily discarded. The bolt struck its belly and though it was not enough to bring down the beast, it was successful in provoking the drake’s fury and it opened its mouth, preparing to vent the full torrent of its rage.

"GET BEHIND ME!" Eowyn ordered them all as she held up the shield between them and the drake. Eowyn had no idea if it would hold. The shield was made of mithrail, the hardest known substance after drake scales. Whether or not it would survive the drake’s cold breath was a mystery she wished she did not have to find out this way. Arwen scrambled behind her while Melia leapt behind a rock as the blast of ice came forth from the creature’s widened jaws.

Eowyn felt the steel of the shield become so cold it was almost difficult to maintain her hold but fortunately, it had not disintegrated and had managed to protect them from doing so. She peered from underneath the shield and heard Arwen scream to see the drake’s enormous head coming towards her; its jaws wide open. Eowyn pushed Arwen out of the way and swung the shield wide, slamming the steel covering into the side of the drake’s head. She did not expect it to hurt the creature but it did cause the drake to recoil a little, giving her time to escape.

"We need to spear it!" Arwen cried out when Eowyn reached her place of safety behind the rocks. The drake was breathing its cold breath against it relentlessly, causing some of the smaller boulders to shatter. Eventually it would make it cold enough for even their brief refuge to crumble.

"I would appreciate any suggestions you might have on how we’re going to manage that little feat!" Eowyn cried out as the drake smashed its tail against the rocks, trying to force them out.

"We need a distraction!" Arwen cried out as she felt more cold waves around her. "Melia! Can you hear us!"

"I hear you!" Melia cried out as she worked feverishly to retrieve the bolts she had used on the worms. The drake’s attention was still fixated on Arwen and Eowyn and allowed her to continue with little hindrance. Without them, she was powerless to be of any help to her friends.

"We need you to face it head on!" Arwen called out.

"What?" Melia stopped short and stared in their direction past the enormous bulk of the creature, with disbelief etched upon her face.

"We need it distracted so we can strike!" Arwen returned over the drake’s roar. The creature turned towards Melia upon hearing them speak, suddenly remembering the Ranger’s presence. Melia grasped what Arwen intended and knew that the tactic was dangerous to say the least. All three of them could be killed in one foul swoop if they erred in its execution. Unfortunately, it was also their only chance. However, for it to work, Melia had to move now. Taking a deep breath, she raced forward, avoiding a deadly swipe by the drake’s claws when it attempted to strike her in transit. Upon missing, it used it tail instead, attempting to swat her away like an insect. Melia managed to elude it, leaping onto the boulder that Arwen and Eowyn were hidden behind

"I hope you are right about this!" Melia cried out before swallowing thickly when she saw the drake coming towards her.

She stood her ground and perhaps it was her defiance, daring to face it in the open with her crossbow aimed boldly that stayed the creature’s desire to turn her to ice. The drake wanted to feed upon her bones, to taste her marrow upon its tongue. It rumbled forward as Melia began shooting bolts at it, taking precise aim so as to strike its soft underbelly. The drake roared in outrage and rose up to its full height when its skin was broken, preparing to avenge the pain by snapping its jaws around her skull. Melia’s fingers trembled as she continued to shoot; her fear threatening to override her senses. But she forced it away as best she could because it was imperative that she held her ground. In a matter of seconds, she emptied all the bolts she had into the beast’s belly and heard its deafening roar in her ears. In its fury, it chose to abandon the desire to feed upon her, deciding instead the quicker path of simply freezing her.

Melia saw the drake’s mouth widen and knew what was coming. She jumped as the cold blast came at her, landing badly on the shoulder that popped loudly when she hit the ground. The pain was beyond belief, like white heat searing through her body. It forced a cry of pain from her lips and for a few seconds she could not move. She was almost prepared to let the drake have her when suddenly, Arwen and Eowyn made a running leap onto the rock, and their swords were brandished high above their heads as they jumped towards the drake. The creature was caught by surprise at the sudden emergence of the other two women and had little time to react as they came lunging towards it.

The drake let out a loud wail of agony as their swords slid deep into the creature’s sternum. With their grip upon the weapons tight and the weight of their bodies pulling them downwards, the blades through the drake’s soft underbelly, ripping open its stomach in two bloody trails. It writhed in excruciating pain and flayed its head from side to side as it screamed a bloodcurdling cry that seemed to fill the world with its pain. The drake’s entire body quaked as the weapons did their worst, tearing out its insides and spilling blood and innards through the fissure of torn tissue.

As it struggled to shake of its attackers, Arwen and Eowyn were both flung away from its body like rag dolls. They landed in the dirt just in time to see the drake staggered away. The beast was heaving and straining against the agony of movement. Its spilled organs were dragging across the dirt in a gruesome display before it rolled heavily onto its side, its breath ragged and thready. Arwen picked herself up; glad to have suffered only scrapes and bruises but her gaze still fixed upon the wounded animal whose life’s blood had turned the ground into a crimson pool of blood. She saw her sword still protruding from its belly and knew by its terrible wounds that the creature was not long for the world.

A part of her felt sorrow for killing these beasts for they were rare and would soon be a thing of legend, however it was still one of the Enemy’s agents who would have spared no compassion if it were them in its place. With that in mind, Arwen’s heart hardened to its plight. The drake’s breathing soon shallowed and when the glow of its red eyes dimmed forever, it moved no more.

Only after she was certain of its demise was Arwen able to release the breath caught in her throat. It did not take long before she remembered the friends who had survived this crisis with her and immediately searched the blood-drenched arena of battle. She saw Eowyn standing up wearily, an angry gash across the side of her face. Blood stained Eowyn’s cheek and matted the gold of her hair, but other then that small injury, she appeared unhurt. Melia however had not moved from where she had fallen and that alarmed Arwen and Eowyn jointly. Both women hurried to the Ranger who was lying on her back, her face contorted in a grimace of pain. Arwen who was the experienced healer knelt down next to Eowyn.

"Melia, are you all right?" Arwen asked and then realized what a foolish question it was because if she were well she would be on her feet.

"I think I have dislocated my shoulder," the Ranger grunted in pain as Arwen helped her to a sitting position.

"You saved us," Eowyn declared as she knelt down next to Melia as well. "Thank you."

"You saved yourself," Melia replied through her teeth as Arwen made an exploratory examination of her injury. "I merely furnished the opportunity."

"I did not think that would work," Arwen answered honestly. "If you had not tricked the beast into the position she was when we attacked, it would not have."

"I did what I could," she replied as Arwen tended to her. "I’m glad that it worked, for all our sakes."

"I hope that is the last of them," Eowyn confessed as she sat down on the dirt, refusing to move at least for an hour or so. She had been fighting off exhaustion all day but now what reserves there were left of her strength was dwindling. "At least for while."

"I have to agree with you," Melia grunted as Arwen placed her hands on the Ranger’s shoulder and prepared to pop the bone into place. Eowyn offered her hand and Melia took it, unashamed to admit that what Arwen had to do would hurt.

"Brace yourself," the elven queen warned and Melia nodded, closing her eyes.

Arwen’s movement was swift in order to lessen the length of the pain but she could not eradicate it. The sharp, bone-jarring sensation rose up in Melia’s throat and escaped her mouth in an agonized cry as the bone was put back in place. Her hand clenched spasmodically around Eowyn’s and for a few seconds, it appeared as if she might pass out from the pain. Admirably, she remained conscious though her experience showed by the tears that had welled in her eyes.

"I am sorry," Arwen apologized for causing her pain but there was no way around it if the shoulder was to recover.

"Its alright," Melia whispered. "It had to be done."

"Arwen, you tend to Melia," Eowyn instructed, seeing Arwen had everything in hand. "I am going to ensure that there are no more surprises awaiting us."

"Are you sure that is wise?" The elf looked at her with concern. "You should not wander about alone."

"I will not go far," Eowyn assured her and made her way towards the drake’s lair.

* * *

Retrieving her sword from the beast had been a grisly business and Eowyn was still wiping the blood from the blade when she left Arwen and Melia to enter the lair of the drake they had just slain. Eowyn still had difficulty coming to grips with the realisation that they had slain a drake. When she was a child and had dreamed of being a great warrior who fought equally great battles, she had also dreamed of fighting dragons and other fantastic creatures. At the Battle of Pelennor, she had fulfilled one childhood dream and found that the art of war was neither as glorious or grand as she had envisioned. War was an ugly thing and until one saw its destruction first hand, there was no explaining how terrible it could be to the novice. At Pelennor and later at Angmar, she had learnt these things.

Fighting the drake had been that sort of experience. True, she was glad to be the one standing after it was all said and done. However, she shared Arwen’s feelings in seeing the death of the drake. For all its dark purpose, it was still a magnificent creature in life. Entering its lair, she kept her hand tight on her sword in readiness if anything were to emerge from the darkness. Inside it should have been pitch black but there was a small glow in the far end. She walked through the uneven surface of the cave, carefully making her way across the rocks and gravel, trying to ignore the fact that some of what she was stepping could be bones. Attracted to the light like a moth to the flame, Eowyn proceeded towards the radiating glow, trying to discern what could produce such unearthly light in this darkness.

Then she saw it.

It was lying against the far wall and the glow that had brought her to it was not coming from the object itself but rather from a small passageway through the rock filled with water. The shimmer from its surface had created the effect of radiance and caught the gleam of metal from the weapon she was now staring at it with wonder and awe. The weapon which was a sword.

The sword of Turin to be precise.

Eowyn closed the distance between herself and the legendary weapon of Turin Turambar, who had been the Edain of Dorlomin and was a renowned dragon slayer of the First Age. Supposedly forged from metal that came from the stars, she could very well believe it as Eowyn wrapped her hand around the hilt of the weapon that had not known human touch in almost two thousand years. It was encrusted with a jewel on each side of its hilt with the fine engraving of Turin’s seal in the center of it above the handle. Though it was supposed to be able to slay dragons with great ease, it felt light in her hand.

This was the weapon that had fought Morgoth in the first age and had slain the dragon Glaurung. Eowyn could not believe that it still existed but then why should it not survive any better than Sauron’s One Ring which was thought to have been lost for so many ages? Eowyn could not help but marvel at Arwen’s insight that the worms and the drake had indeed been protecting the Sword of Turin. Now as she moved towards the pool of water that ran down a small tunnel deeper into the rock, Eowyn was certain that at the end of this passage, they would find the Enemy and finish the threat of him once and for all.

With the Sword of Turin now in their possession, Eowyn knew they would succeed.

* * *

In deference to Melia’s injuries, Arwen and Eowyn chose not to leave immediately. Taking refuge within the cavern where Eowyn had found Turin’s sword, they rested for a few hours with Arwen taking first watch as Eowyn and Melia slept. They had lit something of a fire and Eowyn’s worst fears were realised when they saw the floor the drake’s lair littered with bones. Some were of animals that had dwelt in this lands before the drake and her offspring had slain them or driven them away. As much as it chilled them to the bone to remain inside the cavern, it was still the safest place they knew. As a habit, worms were not likely to trespass the cavern of a drake and so they could be ensured of relief from that particular fear.

Using her elvish skills, Arwen was able to do a good deal for Melia’s shoulder. Although it would still ache from its dislocation, at least she would have more or less full use of it in the immediate future though there would be pain. Eowyn had reclaimed their weapons from the slain drake, as well retrieving Melia’s bolts for her crossbow. With no idea of what was ahead, recovering their weapons was a vital task before they continued. The passage seemed to lead deeper into the mountains although Arwen suspected it might take them even further then that. She sensed great evil emanating from the tunnel and though it would have been wise to turn away, the Enemy lay at the end of their journey and they had no choice but to meet it.

After they had adequate rest, the triumvirate climbed into the pool and began their passage through its water. The water’s height remained at a constant between their waist and armpits and the bottom though covered with silt was almost certainly rock. With only one small torch to light the way, which was no easy thing to handle when one was immersed in water, the three women walked for hours down the passage that seemed to be leading gradually downward. The air became thin and there were many debates in trying to decide whether or not it was entirely wise to keep their torch burning when the air was so scarce. However, Eowyn was not prepared to risk travelling in complete darkness when they knew so little of where they were.

In the end, it was decided that the torch should remain lit and though none of them voiced it, each was grateful for the fact because the walls of stone around them were terribly intimidating and there was still feeling of being buried alive. There was no sound of anything as they continued toward the passage’s end, ignoring the ache to their limbs as the exhaustion of moving fully clothed through water set in as well as its slowly decreasing temperature. Without the sun or moon over their heads, they lost all sense of time and knew not how long they walked only that their journey seemed to go on forever.

Finally after what seemed like days and could well have been because there was still nothing to give them any sense of how long their journey through the tunnel had taken, they entered an enormous cavern with high ceilings, laden with limestone stalactites. They could not see all its boundaries save one, a shore or rock that had a path of its own in the distance. Eager to escape the water and because there seemed no other way to travel, Eowyn immediately led her companions towards its. Arwen had said little during their trek here but Eowyn suspected her silence had to do with her fear of indescribable evil that needed no elven senses to detect because it permeated the walls of this dark place with its stink.

"Thank the Gods," Melia commented as they climbed onto the hard shelf of rock. She was certain that her skin had wrinkled like a thousand year old man in rapid state of decay at the itch she felt in her skin after being immersed so long. "I do not think I could have endured that any longer."

"At least in the water we knew what we faced," Arwen remarked, glancing about anxiously in search of any new danger. "We have no idea what lies ahead."

"And on that happy thought," Eowyn frowned, "we shall continue. I do not want to remain here too long."

"I wonder what this place is?" Melia remarked as they left the edge of the shelf and followed the path of dry land wherever it went. "Beyond the Blue Mountains, there is only the sea." She pointed out.

"That is true," Arwen agreed as they entered more caves that seemed to lead even deeper into the earth than they had already journeyed. "But only since the Second Age. Before that, where we are would have been the Iron Mountains and Beleriand."

"The lands that were sunken when Sauron convinced the peoples of Numenor to war against the Valar," Melia realised, remembering the tales told in her youth.

"Yes," Eowyn sighed shaking her head. Her people were direct descendents of the Black Numenoreans who were all that was left of that great but unfortunately prideful race. "The folly of men who can be convinced of all kinds of foolishness when enough lather has been placed upon their egos."

"Harshly put," Arwen shrugged. "But not entirely untrue."

"My people are no better," Melia sighed. "I am Easterling descended and our proximity to Mordor and the lands of darkness allowed many of our tribes to fall under the sway of Sauron. My father’s tribe who are descendents of the great hero Bor, moved further south, to parts of the world no men, elf or dwarfs had ever been. That is why I am saying that I am from Far Harad as opposed to merely Harad. The others chose to fight for Sauron during the War of the Ring, which fortunately my people chose to stay out of. Still, the peoples of Harad have spent untold years battling because of this difference."

"The Easterlings have now made peace with the Reunified Kingdom," Arwen stated. "Perhaps, now there can be a lasting peace for your people as well."

"Perhaps," Melia replied, not at all sounding optimistic. "However, the world is a large place and there will always be darkness as well as those who will exploit it to their own ends."

"I must agree with Melia on this," Eowyn replied. "I thought we were done fighting but now it seems that the lesser enemies who had remained hidden during Sauron’s reign have chosen his demise to appear. I fear that we have a long way to go before there is truly peace in…"

"Be still!" Arwen ordered suddenly and silenced her companion’s chatter instantly.

They had been passing through an enormous cavern with columns of limestone and stalagmite clusters scattered liberally about. These had the ability to cloud the mind into disarming its guard against shadows and indeed none of the trio had paid much attention as they made their way through it. Arwen had been sensing such a prevailing feeling of danger since entering this underworld that she had not noticed the subtle shift to something that was not all around them but concentrated.

For a few seconds Arwen did not speak but her sword was drawn and that provoked the others into doing the same. The shadows did not move and the path ahead was dark with no signs of any life. Minutes passed and only their breathing could be heard. Eowyn began to get impatient with the anticipation and though her heart told her to trust Arwen’s senses, her mind that was more reliant on things she could see, began to falter.

"What is it?" Eowyn asked finally.

"I can hear them," Arwen whispered softly.

"Hear who?" Melia asked, her own patience dwindling as well.

"I don’t know," Arwen replied, wishing that there was an answer she could give them. She could only sense that something was near. Their proximity was so close that she could feel their breath upon her skin but she could not see them. She knew they were there, she could feel them!

"Let’s move out of here then," Eowyn prompted, not wishing to discount Arwen’s senses but not at all eager to remain if there was danger close by.

"I don’t know if that’s wise Eowyn," Arwen stared at her.

"We should not remain to be targets," Melia added her voice. "If they are here and we cannot see them, we will be far more difficult to overcome if we are moving."

"Melia is right," Eowyn replied and held her torch ahead. "Look there," she pointed. There was another cavern ahead and it seemed larger and more accommodating to them if an attack was forthcoming. "If they are there, they will follow us if we will enter that next cave."

Arwen was unhappy at this course but had to concede that Eowyn was right. With her eyes fixed on the darkness around them, she followed Eowyn into the next with Melia behind her. Nothing stirred in the blackness and yet Arwen could sense the danger clearly. It had not gone away but was looming closer. It was maddening knowing this danger and yet being unable to see it. She heard a stumble behind her and almost jumped out of her skin. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Melia brushing herself off and the Ranger signaled her well being with a simple gesture for Arwen to continue ahead.

Arwen nodded and saw Eowyn passing into the next cavern. She hastened her pace to keep the Lady of Ithilien in her sights when suddenly, a fist appeared out of nowhere, striking Eowyn’s cheek with such force, it sent Eowyn flying through the air before slamming hard on the ground.

"Eowyn!" Arwen screamed and went for her weapon when she felt arms around her that kept her from doing so. Looking over her shoulder, her eyes widened as she saw her attacker to be none other than Melia.

"Melia!" She cried out in shock, unable to believe that the Ranger had betrayed her.

"Let go of me!" Arwen heard an indignant cry and realised that it was Melia’s voice and it was not coming from the person who had such an iron grip on her.

Melia and a man emerged out of the shadows behind them. The Ranger was struggling valiantly as the man or was it a man? Arwen could not be sure as she saw him clinging to the Easterling, having little difficulty restraining the hellion who was trying to break free of him. Although he appeared a man, his face was surprisingly nondescript. Almost bland actually. It was as if someone had tried to fashion a man that could blend easily into a large group. He stared at her with vacant eyes, registering her existence but little more than that.

"Who are you?" Arwen demanded of her captor who said nothing for a second. Melia’s features dissolved and what she found herself facing made her scream.

It was not a man but something that resembled a lizard. There were scales on his body and through his half opened mouth, she could see the fine serration of reptilian teeth. Blood red eyes stared at her and his grip on her tightened, she recoiled when she felt his hand lower to her abdomen. Struggling harder at the invasion, Arwen shuddered when his palm made contact with her stomach. For a few second, he did nothing but hold his hand in that one place before he looked at the others, including the one who was retrieving Eowyn from where she had fallen.

"This is the one," he replied, his voice little more than a hiss. "I feel the future master quickening inside her. This is the Evenstar. "

"Let her go you bastard!" Melia kicked even harder at their identification of the queen, aware now that these things were here specifically for Arwen. Her efforts to break free were cut short when the creature holding her slammed her face first into a column and the Ranger struggled no more, slumping unconsciously in his grip.

"Melia!" Arwen cried out in horror. Eowyn was in a similar state, a terrible bruise forming on the left side of her face where the creature that ambushed them first had struck her.

"Please," she managed to crane enough to look at the captor who was holding her. "I will go with you but let them go. They are of no use to you or your master." She begged, tears running down her cheeks as she made her impassioned plea.

"They are for the Uruk Hai," the creature said plainly. He was not smiling but his teeth bared were almost a grin.

Arwen’s eyes widened, as she understood. "NO!"

Unfortunately, as she was dragged kicking and screaming away from Eowyn and Melia, it appeared that there was very little she could do to stop them or save herself.

* * *

A great feeling of dread had overcome Legolas when he and the Fellowship cleared the path through the briar patch. At Hobbiton, Gandalf decided that they would not reach their destination in time if measures were not taken to hasten their journey. Thus when they set out the day after stopping to rest at Bag End, the wizard had summoned to him one of their greatest allies during the War of the Ring, the Eagles. Gwaihir, his brother Landroval and companion Meneldor had been instrumental to their victory during the war and also to the safety of the Ringbearers when it bore them past the Black Gates of Mordor.

The Eagles were more than happy to aid the Fellowship in reaching the Blue Mountains in time much faster then it would take them by horse back. Gwaihir, descendant of the great eagle Thorondor who had fought Morgoth forces in the First Age, was more than eager to aid in any quest that would prevent the rise of the ancient evil. Gwaihir had promised to wait until the Fellowship emerged in order to carry them safely back to the Grey Havens when their quest was done.

Legolas could sense the evil emanating from the mountain, even before they took the hewn path created by Eowyn to the lair of the worms and the drake. The elf had no doubt that whomever the Enemy was; they would find him in the bowels of the mountain or perhaps even deeper then that. Who knows what terrible things had lingered in the depths of the world since the lands beyond had sunk into the sea following the wrath of Manwe and the Valar?

"We must hurry," Gandalf spoke up, his eyes misting over as if he knew something that they all did not.

"Why?" Aragorn asked first. "What has happened?"

"I am not sure," Gandalf replied, lying. He knew precisely what had taken place; he could sense it even from this distance. Telling Aragorn would serve no purpose other than to send panic through the heart of the King and the Lord of Ithilien and for them to reach the ladies in time, they needed to be focussed. "We must hasten our pace."

"I agree," Legolas commented and broke into a jog to make his point. He could see the edge of the patch but what lay beyond the thorny barrier caused his mouth to fall open from shock.

"By Valar!" He exclaimed.

All these surprises were starting to bother Aragorn greatly and his anxiety was increasing by the minute. "What is it now?" He demanded, not knowing how much more of these cryptic exclamations he was going to take.

"Look!" Legolas pointed out as they stepped into what could only be described as a field of slaughter. Dead worms laid strewn about the bloody field, bodies cleaved in half, speared and slashed. It was a grisly scene of death and if that was not shocking enough to the senses, the drake that lay in the middle of a drying pool of blood was. The creature was buzzing with flies and other insects, its entrails exposed from its split belly. The smell produced made someone gag, Aragorn thought it might have been Merry.

"It’s a drake!" Gimli exclaimed. "I did not think that there were any left! I thought Smaug was the last of them!"

"So did I," Gandalf replied with a slight nod, since he was in the company who saw the end of that particular fire breather. "It appears that there might still have been a few left."

"My wife was definitely here then," Faramir studied the slaughter around him and did not know whether or not he ought to be proud of her efforts or furious that she had been placed in such terrible danger. "I recognise her handiwork."

"Arwen had many talents," Aragorn frowned as he examined the beast and was grateful to say that it was definitely dead. Now on top of all the other reasons that he wanted to find her safe and sound, Aragorn wanted to hear all about how she had managed to slay a drake of this considerable size. He was proud of her while at the same time terrified as well. "I had no idea dragon slaying was one of them."

"It seems they are more resourceful then we gave them credit for," Gimli replied rethinking his views on the lady’s ability to defend herself.

"The queen has always been that way," Frodo answered with no small hint of admiration. He remembered how Arwen had protected him from the Ringwraiths and knew that courage was something the Evenstar had in abundance.

"The tracks are confusing to read," Legolas remarked as he turned his attention to the ground that was not smeared in blood. "However, all three survived the encounter. There are prints leading to that cave." The elf walked on ahead and started climbing the rocks into the cavern.

"I believe your wife and her friends have acquired the Sword of Turin," Gandalf explained as he climbed into the cavern behind Legolas. The jewel poised on the edge of his staff began to glow and light filled the cavern to show the sight that had greeted the three women who had taken their rest within its walls.

"It was here?" Pippin looked about the place with clear revulsion after seeing the bones of the animals and men who had met their end as the meal of the drake who had inhabited this cave.

"For almost two millenia," Gandalf answered casually as Aragorn and Legolas went to the far end, where they found further signs of their loved ones.

"They rested here for awhile," Legolas explained, his fingers gauging time by the cooling embers of the campfire.

"Well killing a whole bunch of worms and dragons can do that," Sam found himself saying to no one in particular and though they were dead, could not help admit he was rather excited by having seen a real drake in his lifetime.

"Someone was hurt," the elf picked up the crushed remains of vegetation and took a breath of it.

"Athelas," Aragorn stated as he took some from Legolas and breathed in its unique sense. "It is used for minor ailments."

"That’s good to know," Faramir declared, breathing easier after the elf’s initial announcement of someone being hurt.

"So they found the Sword of Turin and kept going?" Pippin asked. "Where?"

"Into the water," Legolas answered gesturing to the pool of water that down the passageway.

"Water?" Sam swallowed, not liking the sound of that at all.

"Don’t worry," Aragorn smiled, remembering the hobbit’s aversion to water and more particularly, drowning. "We will not abandon you to fend for yourself."

"You know Sam, you really ought to learn how to swim," Frodo joked and earned a little punch on the shoulder from his best friend.

"Very funny," Sam grumbled and wondered if there was ever going to be a quest where he would not require getting wet.


	9. Nargothrond

 

She dreamed of Faramir.

She dreamed that he was near and that he was seeking her through the mist. It was good to see him, even if he existed to her within the boundaries of the dreamscape. She gazed at him with love and pride, noting that he was dressed for battle, sword hung proudly at his hip, braces on his arms and the shield of Rohan slung across his shoulder. In truth it was not  _the_  Shield of Rohan as such but one that had been fashioned by Gondorian smiths when the original had been buried with his brother. Watching him as he drew nearer to her reminded Eowyn why she loved him so. They had been two displaced people, rudderless before they found one another.

She had been recovering from her infatuation for Aragorn who, by his kindness had unknowingly acquired her affection. She was also mourning the death of her father and trying to be more than a princess because the times required a warrior. Faramir had been the opposite but also the same. He was mourning the death of a brother, one he had always relied upon to make the hard choices in life only to learn with Boromir’s death, his world had changed forever. Suddenly he was the heir to the stewardship of Gondor, the keeper of destiny for the White City. If Fate had not produced Isildur’s heir in the shape of Aragorn, then she could well have been the Lady of Gondor instead of Ithilien.

As the chasm between them dwindled, Eowyn began walking towards her husband, wanting to feel his strong arms about her and tell her that he was with her and what came after this, they would face it together.

When he said those words to her, Eowyn believed they could defeat anything…

"Eowyn!" A sharp prodding in her side made the mist around them dissolve, taking Faramir with it.

Eowyn returned to a reality where there were no ethereal mists swirling around her or the presence of her husband. Instead she was met by rather cold, wet and slimy rock scraping against her cheek, the stench of a stable that had not known cleaning since the First Age and the understanding that she was going to die. She sat up abruptly as her most recent memories flooded into her mind and she saw that she was in a small room that appeared to a dungeon of some description. The room was in a serious state of disrepair. Its walls were marred with mighty cracks and the ceiling was half missing. Beyond it, there was no sky, merely darkness devoid of starlight.

Her head throbbed and her effort to reach for it brought forth the discovery that her hands were bound behind her back. Eowyn attempted to stave off panic at this discovery, especially when she looked around and saw that the room, save herself and Melia was empty. Arwen was not with them.

"Where is she?" Eowyn asked once she managed to sit up to face the Ranger.

"They took her," Melia announced shortly.

"They?" Eowyn stared at her, unable to remember anything about their attackers. With chagrin, Eowyn frowned at the fact that her inability to recollect their captors had to do with her being subdued so easily.

"I think they were shape shifters," Melia answered. "The one who captured me appeared to Arwen with my face."

"I have heard of were creature that are able to change shape," Eowyn muttered as she shook away the disorientation from being rendered unconscious. "But I thought they were legend."

"They’re real enough," Melia retorted bitterly. "They took Arwen to the Enemy. They knew which one of us she was."

"They were waiting for us," Eowyn hissed under her breath.

"More or less," the Ranger nodded grimly.

"So where is this place?" Eowyn took the opportunity to study her surroundings more carefully.

Through the crack in the ceiling, Eowyn saw the outline of a city. Its spires and columns were broken and it was clear that some terrible catastrophe had befallen it to be in such a state of dilapidation. Some of the buildings had crumbled away completely; exposing suites and rooms that were covered within with mosaics and withering tapestries. Moss and lichens grew over the gray stone with vines and cobwebs overhanging balconies and other high places. It did not require Eowyn to see much more to understand that they were presently being held in one of the ancient cities of the Sunken Lands.

"They call it Nargothrond," Melia responded attempting to loosen the bonds around her wrists but to little avail. As it was the outcome of her efforts made her skin feel raw and tender, forcing her to stop before she was further injured.

"The weremen?" Eowyn asked, straining to see through the small hole in the door to their cell. Beyond it she could hear the movement of their captors but there was no quiet to them. Her heart clenched inside her chest as she recognised the meat of their conversation because while the substance of their language eluded her, she knew the tongue being spoken.

Uruk Hai.

As if aware of her realisation, Melia answered coolly, "we’ve been given to them."

"Given?" Eowyn’s eyes widened as she stared sharply at the Ranger. She knew what that meant of course but a part of her was still refusing to believe it.

"Apparently the Uruk Hai here have been without their females for quite some time," Melia swallowed, her face showing her clear revulsion of their intended fates. "The Enemy has given us to them to sate those desires."

"I would die first!" Eowyn spat in horror. She could not even begin to imagine such a gross violation of her body and for the first time since this all began, she started to feel currents of real terror surging through at being forced to endure such a thing.

"You will die anyway," Melia pointed out wearily. There was a brief pause and she spoke again, this time her voice was lowered almost to a whisper, "I have a plan to free us but you must trust me."

"What is it?" Eowyn asked just as softly.

"You do not want to know," the Ranger replied appearing somewhat uncomfortable with the question.

"Do not tell me that I do not wish to know," Eowyn hissed with exasperation. "This is not the time for riddles."

"And I give you none except to say that you must trust me," she repeated herself, still hesitant to tell Eowyn for the Lady of Ithilien might balk outright at the suggestion or worse yet, attempt to stop her from attempting it. "What I must do repulses me enough, however, the alternative is far worse. I have no intention of taking a Uruk Hai lover; I don’t care how insistent he is on the matter. If I fail, then we will at least die with swords in our hands and not the spoil of Uruk Hai filth."

Eowyn opened her mouth to protest but caught herself in time. Melia had proven to be a trusted ally during this entire quest and Eowyn supposed that trusting her in this matter was the least she could do to show her faith in the Ranger. Besides, she could not disagree with Melia’s logic. She would rather die fighting than raped and despoiled by Saruman’s savage creations.

"I trust you Melia," Eowyn said after a brief pause. "Can I help in what you plan to do?"

"Unfortunately not," Melia said with a little smile, grateful for the trust for it was no small thing to earn Eowyn’s respect. "I’m afraid this is work not worthy of the daughter of Rohan or more specifically, the Lady of Ithilien."

Eowyn did not understand but then she did not need to. "Alright then, do what you must."

"Thank you," Melia replied before returning her thoughts to the matter at hand. "Wish me luck."

Eowyn nodded as Melia turned her attention to the door and called out, attracting the attention of the guards at the door. One of them peered their brutish face through the opening in the door and seeing that she had caught their interest, asked to see their captain. She spoke in the common tongue but it was obvious that they understood her. Eowyn could not understand why Melia had asked the captain of the Uruk Hai be summoned. It was not as if they had anything to bargain with. The Enemy had Arwen and other than their value as relief for their lust, she did not know what reason Melia could have to call the attention of the Uruk Hai captain.

He entered the room a moment later, a sight to scare Eowyn who had faced far worse in her lifetime. Tall and muscular, his neck was thick and his face just as fearsome and ferocious as she remembered during the battle of Pelennor. The two women felt like dwarves next to him. There was no way they could hope to overpower him on equal ground and yet if they did not, they would face a nightmare far worse than any death imaginable.

"What is it you want?" He growled, his sharp teeth showing as he made the demand. His voice was like a snarl and the rest of him was savagery given form.

"I do not wish to die," Melia said simply, her tone was smooth, with a quality to it that was different from her usual speech, almost husky. Inwardly, however, the Ranger was fighting her fear because she was damn near terrified of the beast before her.

"You won’t die," he laughed wickedly, his eyes glimmering in twisted suggestion. "You two are the only females there are for my men, we will keep you alive for many, many years, or at least until we acquire more."

Eowyn felt herself blanch at the thought and prayed silently to all the gods of her ancestors that this plan of Melia’s worked because being kept alive for the sole purpose becoming the Uruk Hai’s sexual relief was enough to make her blood run cold and long for death. The idea of being violated by this creature was threatening to force sane thought from her mind.

"I would come to you willingly if you do not harm us more than necessary." Melia offered seductively, forcing herself to remain true to her course, no matter how much his closeness unnerved her.

Eowyn turned sharply to her, wondering what kind of game Melia was playing because she was  _never_  going to these creatures willingly, not while there was breath in her body. She almost demanded of Melia what insanity was she embarking upon when Eowyn remembered her promise to trust the Ranger.

"Willingly?" The Uruk Hai captain stared at her with uncertainty. "What difference does that make to us? We will take what we want anyway."

"You can do that," Melia agreed, aware of the dangerous tact she was taking but somehow she had to inspire this captain’s interest. "Or you can let me show you a world of pleasure beyond your understanding. Why do you think human males are so devoted to their wives? Love? Love is for fools. I am talking about lust, pure, dark and primeval, the kind that makes the body scream for more. I can show you so much pleasure that your mind will know nothing but the need to crave and when that craving is beyond endurance, I will satisfy it with all the skill at my disposal."

"This is a trick," the captain snorted in disbelief, yet there was a glimmer in his eyes that resembled interest. "You are attempting to escape."

"I can show you," Melia suggested, her eyes still fixed upon his own beneath their heavy ridges. "Keep my hands tied and give us some privacy and I will show you just how much of this is a trick."

By Valar, Eowyn cried out silently in the confines of her thoughts. She was succeeding! This Uruk Hai actually believed her!

The captain of the Uruk Hai stared at Melia for a second, trying to decide whether or not her offer was genuine. For a few seconds, nothing was said by anyone in the room although both Melia and Eowyn were holding their breaths in anticipation of his answer. After what seemed like an eternity of time, he reached down and pulled Melia to her feet by the collar of her shirt. The Ranger stood up shakily, uncertain whether or not she was happy that he had fallen for her ruse. Without speaking, he dragged her out of the cell into the larger room outside. There were three Uruk Hai there already. Two were playing sentry outside their cell and one who was standing guarding at the door to this room. All turned their attention to Melia and the captain as he dragged her to the center of the floor and lifted her roughly onto the table.

"Show me." He demanded.

"Tell them to go away," Melia replied glancing at the other Uruk Hai in the room. "This is not to be done for an audience, just you."

She gave him the same smile that she had in the cell, the one that promised all sorts of pleasure if he submitted to her small request. "I do not need to be untied," she added, just to give him reassurance that she was powerless against him. "Just a little privacy."

He considered her words for a short time before barking at the others in the room in words she did not understand but was clear enough when they started towards the door, sniggering to themselves with all kinds of derisive innuendo. Melia braced herself for what she needed to do and hoped it would succeed because in her experience, men did not take rejection well and one who had been lead as this one had, would not hesitate to kill her for the insult.

The first thing he did once they were alone was tear open the buttons of her shirt, exposing her breasts to him. She could tell he liked what he saw by the quickening of his breath. Melia was sitting on the table; her legs spread slightly apart as the captain took position between them. His hand reached for her skin and kneaded the flesh hard. Melia almost gagged from the sensation but closed her eyes and swallowed away her disgust. She smiled at him, pretending that his touch produced pleasure and that smile impacted upon him oddly; he did not know what to think. It was clear this Uruk Hai had never been with a female of any kind and was trying to satisfy his curiosity with her.

Unfortunately, this was as far as she was going to allow him.

Without any warning, Melia tilted her body slightly and threw her legs to either side of the captain’s neck. She grabbed hold of his head with her feet. In one swift but brutal show of strength, she twisted sharply once her hold was secure and, before he had any opportunity to push her away, snapped his neck with a terrible crunch of bone. He fell to the ground without uttering a word and Melia exhaled sharply, able to release this knot that had constricted her breathing passages as soon as she made her move to escape. Climbing off the table before the Uruk Hai at the door noticed what she had done; Melia saw their weapons on a table at the far end of the room. It appeared the Uruk Hai was going to divide them as spoils.

Melia found her sword and immediately cut the bonds around her wrists. It took some maneuvering to accomplish that but once it was done, she gathered their weapons and padded softly back to Eowyn’s cell.

"I’m back," Melia announced as she entered the cell.

"Where is he?" Eowyn asked, not wanting to know what Melia did to acquire her freedom, not if her exposed chest was any indication.

"Enjoying the fruits of human pleasure," Melia said wryly as Eowyn stood up and faced her bound wrist towards the Ranger so that she could be freed of them.

"I will not ask," Eowyn declared as she took her sword from Melia once she was freed and Melia was fixing the buttons on her clothes.

"Don’t," Melia showed her disgust without shame. "When this is done, I shall have to bathe for a month."

"We can go up that way," Eowyn pointed to the hole in the ceiling. Obviously the Uruk Hai never thought they would be able to use that as an escape route if their hands were tied.

"Good," Melia replied glancing past their cell door. "I don’t relish facing those Uruk Hai when they find out what I did to their captain."

* * *

Escaping from the hands of the Uruk Hai was not as difficult as it appeared; however, finding Arwen was another thing entirely.

The city of Nargothrond was largely intact despite its state and existed in a cavern. Judging by some of the cracks weeping with water, behind the rock was the ocean. It would only a matter of time before the sea claimed this city like the rest of the Sunken Lands. How this place had survived was a freak of nature but they supposed the Enemy had never intended on remaining here for long, only until its foul plan reached culmination in the birth of Arwen’s child or when it prepared to take the rest of Middle Earth. Unfortunately, their efforts to find the Queen of Gondor were hampered by the fact that their escape raised the alarm throughout the city, forcing them out of it until they could regroup and consider what was to be done.

The underworld beneath the Blue Mountains seemed to be a series of caves and both Melia and Eowyn came to the decision to find someplace to hide until the UrukHai stopped searching for them. Once that happened, they could continue their search for Arwen with a little less hindrance, though neither were deluding themselves with the notion that it would be simple. Eowyn had no idea whether it was nearing the full moon or what the Enemy’s plans were now that he had Arwen in his power. Eowyn knew she was still alive but the closer they approached the ritual that would see her child’s soul replaced with that of Melkor’s, the greater the possibility became that she might take her own life to save Middle Earth.

Slipping into the passages that lead away from the city, Melia wanted to return to the place where they had been taken, in the hopes that it might provide them with some clue as to where Arwen had led. They assumed the city but if they were wrong, the consequences would be fatal. In truth, the exercise was more an effort to feel less helpless than they already did. They made their way down the meandering cavern of rocks and twisting pathways when suddenly, they heard noises coming from the further down the passageway. Voices in soft tones were echoing down the narrow confines of rock. Melia and Eowyn took cover immediately, not prepared to be discovered, at least not until they went after Arwen.

* * *

"Something draws near," Legolas announced to the Fellowship as they made their way down a passage of rock they had discovered to be full of tracks. Whether or not they belonged to Arwen or Eowyn was difficult to say for there were many of them but at least they were fresh.

  
"What?" Aragorn asked, unsheathing his sword and looking ahead with deadly intent. Since descending into this stygian world, his fears for Arwen had increased a thousand fold and he was eager to find something so that he could flay its skin from its body to learn the whereabouts of his wife.

"I am not certain," the elf’s brow knotted in confusion as he replied in a puzzled voice, "I do not sense it as danger though."

"Isn’t that a good thing?" Pippin quipped.

"Could it be Arwen?" Aragorn asked hopefully.

"I do not sense her," Legolas replied and was rewarded with a disheartened expression from the king.

"How close is it?" Faramir’s weapon was drawn and ready for attack.

"Very close," Legolas answered.

"All of you," Aragorn spoke firmly to the rest of the Fellowship, "stay here. Legolas and I will go investigate."

"But…" Faramir started to protest when Aragorn cut him short.

"I need you here to protect our backs," Aragorn quickly explained. "Legolas does not sense danger but that does not mean it is not a trap."

"Alright," the Lord of Ithilien was forced to concede that much to his king and fell back as Aragorn and Legolas continued down the passage.

"Take care Strider," Gandalf warned good-naturedly as they drew away. "You do not know if what you find is a threat."

"Care to tell me what I will find?" He stared at the wizard with impatience.

Gandalf said nothing, merely giving him a bemused smile.

Sometimes, Aragorn wished that Gandalf was not quite so evasive. Death had done nothing for the man except make him infuriatingly cryptic.

With Legolas leading the way, Aragorn followed the Prince of Mirkwood further up the tunnel, wondering what perils they would find. He had kept the others behind because the space between the passageway was narrow enough without too many bodies trying to fight if there was an attack of some kind. They entered a slightly larger cavern filled with protruding limestone formations and saw nothing but more shadows. Legolas paused in the middle of the main track to the cave and swept his eyes across the terrain. Aragorn knew the stance well. He had detected something. The elf stepped away from the path, moving stealthily without making any sound against the gravel toward a particularly large stalactite. He was almost upon it when out of nowhere; a lithe figure stepped out and threw a fist squarely in his face. 

"Legolas!" Aragorn shouted and moved to intercept as Legolas tumbled into the dirt, landing flat on his back. The stranger’s movement was lightning fast as she took up position over him and aimed her weapon directly at the fallen Prince.

Legolas froze as he found himself staring into the sharp end of a crossbow’s bolt. The woman who stood before him would not hesitate to fire, this he knew without any delusions, despite her loveliness. He lay there for a moment, stunned by the attack, particularly since he had sensed no danger. She did not see him as she aimed and he knew by the focus in her eyes, that her aim was deadly accurate. She stared at him dispassionately, bearing the stance of an experienced archer for she did not distinguish him as anything but her target. It was a skill he knew well and employed himself. Allowing one’s mind to become clouded with the who and the what of the target only distracted the archer’s mind when he needed to know only one thing; where it was to shoot.

"Aragorn?" Eowyn’s astonished voice suddenly filled the cavern.

Legolas took the opportunity to escape his compromising position when the sound of Eowyn’s voice distracted his attacker. Kicking his foot out, he swept her feet from under her and sent her tumbling towards him. She feel into the dirt next to him and Legolas quickly sat up and straddled her, tearing the crossbow out of her hand and flinging it aside. Before she could do anything else (like strike him again) Legolas clamped his hands around her wrists and pinned them to the ground. The whole weight of his body ensuring that she could not break free.

"Melia!" Eowyn hurried out of her hiding place before Aragorn. "It is alright! This is the King and Prince Legolas." 

"Then tell the Prince to unhand me!" Melia hissed angrily, glaring at Legolas at having exchanged places so unceremoniously.

"If you are finished Legolas?" Aragorn stared at the elf momentarily before turning to Eowyn.

"It was not I that ambushed us!" Legolas pointed out as he climbed off the woman Eowyn had called Melia. As a gentlemen and a Prince of Mirkwood, he offered his hand towards her in order to help the lady to her feet.

"We were protecting ourselves," Melia grumbled as she ignored his gesture and stood up on her own, still glaring at him.

"ENOUGH!" Aragorn boomed because he could not care less about whose fault this was. He had only one thought in mind now that Eowyn was before him and able to answer his questions.

"Where is Arwen?" He asked slowly, each word dripping with barely restrained anger.

"The Enemy has taken her," Eowyn swallowed thickly and answered her king. She could not believe that Aragorn had come all this way to find them and yet what else would he have done when he learnt his wife was gone? The King that had gained the unswerving alliegance of so many had done so because he would do such a thing. He was not a man who would let others do for him what he himself was unprepared to do. When it came to Arwen, Eowyn should have guessed that Aragorn would consider it nothing less than his right to come to his wife’s aid, his kingship be damned.

"Where?" Aragorn said tautly in a tone that demanded immediate compliance.

"Into the city to what is left of Nargothrond," Eowyn replied automatically. She was grateful that he was here because now they could retrieve Arwen with the aid of one of the Gondor’s greatest warriors.

"That explains a great deal," Legolas replied. "Nargothrond was already underground when Numemor was sunk by the Valar. It is quite possible that it remained intact because of the huge caverns within which it was constructed. All this," he gestured to the caves they had been travelling, "are the caverns the Noldor elves created to link to the city, to their jewel."

"Eowyn!" Faramir cried from the mouth of the cavern. The commotion had brought the rest of the Fellowship and Faramir was greeted with the wondrous sight of his wife, alive and well, though looking rather worse for wear, standing before him. Eowyn’s face lit up with similar radiance upon seeing him and they ran into each other’s arms, before their lips met in a passionate kiss of nothing less than sheer joy. Faramir swept Eowyn into his arms, spinning her around as his heart swelled with untold relief. The emotion and fervor of the moment touched all those present, even Aragorn who had yet to be reunited with Arwen, elating their hearts at the vision of this happy reunion.

"I thought I would never see you again," Eowyn whispered as she clung to her beloved.

"I would follow you anywhere," he smiled. "Do you not know that?"

"I should have suspected," she laughed. "I knew you were too stubborn to stay at home and wait for me."

"I might say the same about you," he grinned.

Ignoring the happy couple because the dark business before them was far from over, Aragorn turned to the rest of the Fellowship. Arwen was still missing and until he found his wife, he could not rest. "Is not Nargothrond the elven city taken by Glaurung?" He remembered the history of the city from his studies as a member of Elrond’s house.

"Yes," Gandalf nodded grimly, "Glaurung took the city after defeating the armies of Nargothrond and Tumhalad in the First Age."

"Who was this Glaurung?" Frodo asked. He knew something of the legends of the First Age but he had to confess that he had never heard of this Glaurung.

"He was a dragon of Angband," Gandalf replied. "He emerged from the pit in the year 260 of the First Age and was considered the greatest of all the dragons of the Urloki or in the common tongue, fire breathers. Some even call him the father of all dragons. He fought for Melkor during the Battle of the Sudden Flame and then later at the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. In the year 496, Glaurung took the city of Nargothrond and created here a great hoard of treasure. It is said that he was a master of illusion and was able to trick the hero Turin into marrying his sister Nienor. However, his trickery could not keep Turin from driving a sword into his belly."

"Wait a minute…" Eowyn suddenly broke away from Faramir and faced Gandalf. "Is that why we needed to retrieve Turin’s sword because the enemy is Glaurung?"

"Glaurung was killed!" Legolas insisted. "Turin killed him!"

"No," Gandalf shook his head seeing no reason to conceal the truth now that Eowyn had guessed the identity of their Enemy. "He was not killed though he was wounded terribly and would have died if he had not released Turin from the spell that kept him blind to Nienor’s true identity. Grief stricken by the horror of learning his wife was his sister, Turin took his own life. Many had thought that it was Glaurung’s last act of vengeance to remove the spell but in truth it was his own salvation he was attempting to procure. Without Turin to hunt him, Glaurung was able to retreat to the dark places of the world, where he could recover his strength. His wound was grievous indeed and as it is in the case of dragons, he was able to sleep for a long time while his powers and his strength returned."

"And now he seeks to revive Melkor by stealing my son’s life," Aragorn said tautly, the rage in his heart was beyond description. "Why could you not tell us this before?"

"He is a master of illusion Aragorn," Gandalf explained. "He has a palantir and if he knew that we were coming for him, he could have placed us under the same spell that allowed Turin to marry his sister. As long as he thought he had remained safely anonymous, he ignored us for the most part. My guess is once your wife arrived in Mithlond, he began to understand that it was Turin’s sword that she wanted. Of course he could not risk harming her, not until she was close enough."

"The creatures that took her, the shape shifters, they were quick to separate us. They had no use for us and gave us to Uruk Hai."

"They gave you to the Uruk Hai?" Sam exclaimed horrified.

"Yes," Eowyn replied, still shuddering inwardly at the words that brute had spoken regarding his intentions for them. "If Melia had not tricked that savage into believing she wanted him, we would not have escaped at all."

"I do not think we need to go into the specifics of our escape," Melia muttered, somewhat embarrassed by the whole thing. Her skin was still crawling from where the Uruk Hai had touched her.

"I for one would like to hear all about it," Legolas gave her a look of pure evil.

"We don’t have time for this," Aragorn declared, too concerned with his wife’s fate to care for the banter of those around him. "I’m going to find my wife now."

"We don’t know where she is in the city," Eowyn replied.

"I will find her," Gandalf stated and took the lead. "We are close enough now, I should be able to detect him. We do not have much time. The Enemy knows that you are here, he will attempt to carry out the ritual before we can stop him."

"Then let us be off," Gimli responded eagerly. "The time has come for us to finish this once and for all."

With that, Aragorn could not disagree.

* * *

Arwen was in hell.

  
She had not died yet, to go to this terrible afterlife spoken of so often by mortals, but she knew she was already there. The nightmare in which she now found herself was almost akin to that hellish fate and there was no way she could keep it from consuming those that she loved as well. Kicking and screaming had they taken her away from Eowyn and Melia, whose fate preyed heavily upon her mind particularly when she knew what the Enemy had planned for them. The thought of what they were enduring because of her caused her soul to wail with anguish because this was the very outcome she had feared the most when she had allowed Eowyn to embark upon this journey with her, that Eowyn’s life would be forfeit because of her. Not only was Eowyn’s life endangered, she had brought another into this and now Melia too would die because of her.

And as much as it shamed Arwen, that was not even the worst of it.

The worst of it was that at this moment, the shape shifters surrounded by comrades composed of Uruk Hai and Orcs were awaiting their master’s arrival to begin the ceremony that would rip the soul out of her unborn son’s body with Arwen helpless to do anything to stop it. She had prayed that if all hope was lost, if her efforts to stop the Enemy had failed utterly, there would still be the chance of saving Middle Earth from Melkor’s darkness by taking her own life. However, it seemed that the Enemy had already surmised that she might make this attempt and so as soon as she was under their power, the shape shifters ensured that she was given no opportunity to cheat their master of his prize.

Trapped on a slab of rock in what was once the main courtyard in the city of Nargothrond, Arwen’s hands and feet were bound as the shape shifters prepared her for the ritual. Above her, she could see nothing of the moon but it did not matter. The magic that would destroy her son did not require the moon’s power to become, it simply needed her. They had torn open her dress, leaving her belly exposed for all to see. Strange writings were scrawled upon her fair skin in blood, the language was that of Utumno, the lands that were once the center of Melkor’s earthly empire. She squirmed desperately as they placed the fouls words upon her skin and marked her forehead with strange concoctions that reeked of evil but paid little attention to her. She was but the vassal of their future master and while she was not to be hurt, she was not the most important player in this ceremony. Her babe was.

"Please!" She begged them, knowing it was pointless because they were savants to their master’s will. "Don’t do this! He is an innocent! Don’t take his life before he even begins it!"

"Do not weep little mother," a voice suddenly consoled from above her. It was like the rumble of thunder, low but still loud enough to ensure that when he spoke, he commanded the attention of all those present. Arwen saw the shape shifters treating her retreat a little in deference to their master’s presence. Even the Orcs and the Uruk Hai had bowed their head in reverence to the speaker.

Arwen raised her head and looked into the face of her enemy. The sight of him made her scream in nothing less than terror when she saw a dragon standing over her. This was nothing like the drake that she, Eowyn and Melia had fought within the Forest of Brethil. This was a Urloki, a full blooded, great dragon of the First Age. A fire breather that had been created by Melkor himself when he existed in the physical plane. A dragon with golden scales gleaming under the light of many torches scattered around the courtyard to give Nargothrond the radiance it lacked without the sun above it. The dragon’s massive head revealed its diamond like eyes and it regarded her thoughtfully before speaking again.

"Do not weep for him little mother," it repeated itself in that same bone shuddering voice. "He will be the master of all. I will make him a god and together we will rule Middle Earth as it was meant to be."

"He will not be my son!" Arwen shouted. "He will be Melkor! I have seen the vision of what his reign will wreak upon Middle Earth and it is a rule bathed in blood! I won’t let you take his soul!"

  
"There is very little you can do to prevent it," Glaurung replied calmly, having expected such desperate posturing at the moment of truth. "What will be will be. Once Melkor is inside of you, you will remain here until he is born. When you die, I shall return your son to Gondor, where he will take his place by his father’s side."

"NEVER!" Arwen screamed defiantly again. "His father is no fool! He will know the truth."

"He will know what I wish him to know," Glaurung returned smugly, his dragon’s teeth bared malevolently as he did so. "I will make him accept the child just as I made Turin marry his sister, Nienor."

Arwen stared at him, realizing at last with whom she was dealing with.

"Glaurung!" She gasped. "You are Glaurung!"

"I am glad you know me Evenstar," Glaurung nodded, smoke escaping his nostrils in short puffs as he did so. "Since we will be spending what remains of your life in close company."

"This will not succeed!" Arwen hissed. "You cannot watch me every second for the next nine months. If you destroy my son before he is born I will ensure that your Melkor will never know life in his skin! I will kill myself before I let you blight Middle Earth with his evil again!"

"You talk bravely," the dragon laughed, "but you will not know a moment alone until that child is freed from your body and if I must I will tear you open myself to acquire him when it is safe. You will not harm my future king." With that, Glaurung turned to his minion and said simply, "begin."

"No!" Arwen screamed in despair as the shape shifters came to her once more and began chanting the words that would begin the dark ritual and the transmogrification of her son into Melkor. She tried desperately to break free but she was trapped, completely and utterly. Not even the Sword of Turin that lay on a stone bench not far from where she lay could help her. It might as well have been ten thousand leagues away for her ability to reach it.

"Please! Don’t harm my baby!" She sobbed as she struggled, trying to ignore the chanting taking place around her.

Suddenly a sharp stabbing pain filled her body with such intensity that all she could do was scream as it pierced through her skin and ignited all her nerve endings with fire. Her scream tore through the air, like a knife cutting the air. Her knees tried to pull up, to brace herself against the pain spreading out from her womb to the rest of her. The chanting grew louder but Arwen no longer noticed it. Above her, Glaurung’s eyes gleamed in triumph.

"He is coming!" Glaurung exclaimed. "Melkor is coming from the void!"

As he finished that sentence, Arwen felt another agonizing spasm of pain that forced the air from her lungs in another pitched scream. Her hands gripped the ropes that bound her wrist, pulling on them as the pain become more than she could stand. She knew what was happening, she could feel the terror of her babe inside of her and felt her heart shatter because she could do nothing to help either of them. Each scream of pain uttered engendered the rejoicing of the Uruk Hai and the Orcs in attendance of the ceremony.

Blood started seeping out of her nose as she screamed, that damned chanting in her ears as they invoked dark powers to force Melkor into her body. With the rising fervor of their words, her pain increased until all she could hear were her own screams, half mired in agony, half begging for the life of her child. Desperate pleas that earned no compassion from those watching because their purpose was being served already. Her child meant nothing to them.

"ARWEN!"

She stopped screaming immediately, forgetting the pain as she turned her head and saw Aragorn at the far end of the courtyard. He was staring at her across the sea of Orcs and Uruk Hai, his face etched with the desperate need to know that she was alive. She could only imagine what her screams would have done to his state of mind upon hearing them. She had been ready to give up, she had been ready to succumb to the pain but that moment of weakness was over. She would fight with all her strength to save her baby because there was now hope because he was here!

Aragorn was here!

"Estel!" She cried desperately. "HELP US!"

The entire courtyard burst into chaos as the Uruk Hai and the Orcs rushed to meet the intruders. Arwen saw through her tears Aragorn drawing out the sword of Narsil and decapitating the first Orc that dared to enter his presence without thinking twice. With the blade that had once taken the ring from Sauron’s fingers and a smaller dagger in his other hand, she watched him fight his way through the forces of evil rallied against him. Arwen had never seen him in battle but she doubted that she would forget it. He was magnificent in his fury. He moved far swifter than any warrior, man or elf, using both hands to fight the enemies coming at him. He laid waste to Uruk Hai that came at him with their brutish weapons, stopping their blows with the sword before thrusting the dagger into their bodies to end the threat of them once and for all.

  
Another came at him from the right and Aragorn dropped low enough to avoid the swing that would have taken his head off before turning around and stabbing his dagger deep into the creature’s leg. The Uruk Hai howled in pain before Aragorn completed their battle by running him through with his sword. Throwing his fist back, he stopped in its tracks the Orc coming at him with a raised axed, causing the creature to stagger slightly before Aragorn swung around, his blade gleaming as it slice through the Orc’s throat and spurted black blood in all directions.

"Finish it!" Glaurung roared at his shape shifter servant, reminding Arwen that the ritual was not ended simply because Aragorn had arrived.

"No!" She wailed, refusing to allow this terrible thing to happen, not when they were so close to salvation.

The shape shifters resumed their chanting and Arwen felt that same terrible pain coursing through her, cutting short any protestations she might have about the ceremony. She threw her head back and uttered another blood curdling scream of exquisite agony as the invasive spirit entered her body. All of a sudden an arrow sliced through the air and ended the chanting just as her throat became hoarse and she was drained of the power to cry out again. Blood spurted from the shape shifter’s neck as it tumbled to the floor. Another arrow flew over her head and into the other shape shifters participating in the ritual. The accuracy and swiftness of the arrows could only belong to one person. She craned her neck and saw Legolas renewing his assault of arrows upon the shape shifters. Next to him was Melia and together they made a formidable combination as the performers of the ritual were killed off one by one.

Glaurung moved towards her, intending on snatching her away when suddenly he was flung backwards like a lizard being abused by a small and capricious child. The dragon howled in nothing less than fury as Arwen heard Gandalf shouting at Frodo and Sam to free her. Arwen realized that only Gandalf’s power could have dispatched the dragon so easily. Glaurung’s enormous crushed the wall upon which it had landed. Debris of stone fragments came loose as it shook away its disorientation and glared at the battle transpiring before it with nothing less then thunderous rage. Arwen struggled again, wanting desperately to be away from the fire breather for she had a sense that his actions from this point would be fueled by rage and the restraint he had shown her earlier might no longer hold sway now that his plans were in jeopardy.

"Hold on Miss," Arwen heard Sam’s voice next to her ear and tilted her head to see the halfing cutting away at the ropes holding her arms. "We’ll get you out of here."

"Can you walk?" Frodo asked as he did the same to the ropes around her feet.

"Yes," Arwen nodded, swallowing hard as her hands suddenly knew freedom. She sat up quickly and saw that Glaurung was almost upon them. "Frodo! Sam! Watch out!"

The two hobbits looked up and found themselves facing the dragon that had them in their sights. Frodo turned away from Glaurung, ignoring his terror and forcing himself to slice through the ropes binding Arwen to the stone altar. As soon as she was free, Arwen rolled off the table, landing on her feet just as Glaurung let lose a jet of fire at them. With little consideration of the pain that ached her body, she grabbed both the hobbits and dragged them under the slab of stone just as the fire washed over them.

Eowyn gazed across the courtyard and saw Aragorn’s efforts to reach Arwen stymied by the swarm of Orcs and Uruk Hai around him. Beneath the altar where the ritual was to be performed, she saw Arwen and the hobbits taking refuge with the dragon fast approaching them. The shape shifters had turned their attention to Gandalf attempting to distract him since he was the only one strong enough to deal with their master. He was fighting off them easily but was distracted from Arwen’s plight momentarily.

"Faramir!" She shouted at her husband who was at her side, hacking away at the Uruk Hai that was bent on claiming his head for its own.

Faramir blocked the blade coming down upon him and held the Uruk Hai in a deathly grip as he kicked out his leg, landing the ball of his foot on his opponent’s stomach and causing him to buckle. Pulling back his sword, he swung hard, shattering the enemy’s blade and taking the creature’s head with it. The Uruk Hai had no time to scream as it fell before Faramir who turned to his wife at her call when an Orc stabbed a blade in his direction. The Lord of Ithilien lashed out with his sword, tearing the weapon away from the foul being’s hands and completed the battle when he ran it threw with the blade.

"We need to get to Arwen!" Eowyn cried out.

Faramir looked across the floor at where Arwen was trying to protect herself and the hobbits from Glaurung’s rage and saw Gandalf’s preoccupation. "No," he shook his head. "We need to get to Gandalf."

Eowyn understood his meaning and together they fought their way through to the wizard. Eowyn saw a creature moving through the body of Orcs, Uruk Hai and the Fellowship, coming straight for her. She noticed that it changed shape as it approach, first appearing like an Orc then an Uruk Hai, rotating as it neared her rapidly. Eowyn guessed immediately that it was the weremen that had overcome them back in the cavern when she and Melia had been separated from Arwen. She held up her sword, trying to keep her eye upon it because it was difficult to focus when suddenly Faramir who had been standing next to her lowered his sword.

"We should leave," he replied.

"Leave?" Eowyn stared at him in shock. "Are you insane?"

"No," she shook his head. "This is the King’s problem."

Eowyn narrowed her eyes and made her decision there and then. Without thinking twice she thrust her blade forward, sinking it into his flesh. Driving her sword straight into his body, she did not halt her grisly advance until the blade met air on the other side of his back. He looked at her betrayed, his mouth opened to speak but the sound that came out was not her beloved voice’s but an unearthly howl that tore through her ears. The creature bearing Faramir’s face dropped to his knees before his features changed to that of the reptile like shape shifter that Melia had described.

"Have to do better than that, I’m afraid." Eowyn whispered and smiled to herself when she saw Faramir making short work of the Orcs that were keeping Gandalf from dealing with Glaurung. Stepping over the body of the dead shape shifter, she continued toward her husband and the wizard, killing anything that lay in her path to do so.

* * *

"Arwen is pinned!" Legolas called out to Melia whose efforts as an archer were of the most use to help the Evenstar who was trapped under the altar with Sam and Frodo. Aragorn had sent him and Melia ahead because they had been the best able to dispatch the shape shifters who were carrying out the ritual for Glaurung, however, now that they were dispensed with, Legolas and Melia were faced with a larger problem; the dragon itself.

"Arwen!" Melia called out, hoping that she could hear the Ranger through all this noise. The Evenstar searched for the source of her name and fixed her gaze upon Melia an instant later.

"Be prepared to run!" Melia instructed and raised her crossbow so that Arwen would understand what she and Legolas intended.

Arwen nodded, issuing unheard warnings to the two halflings that had freed her. Melia turned to Legolas and exhaled a deep breath. "Are you as good with that thing as they say?"

"I have been known to be proficient," Legolas retorted pulling two arrows from his bow and taking aim at the dragon. "Are you?" He cast a sidelong glance at her with a brow raised.

"I did not shoot you, did I?" Melia replied sweetly and did the same with her crossbow.

"I will take that as a yes," he replied. "Aim for the belly. This isn’t a drake. Nothing will penetrate Glaurung’s hide, no matter how straight our arrows fly. Only his belly or the soft skin beneath his neck is truly vulnerable. I doubt we can fell him with arrows alone but the distraction will help Arwen and the others flee his presence."

"I follow your lead Prince," Melia answered with all seriousness in her voice.

Legolas fired first and impressed Melia with the perfection of his aim. Both arrows separated in mid flight, one striking the dragon’s flesh just above the belly where his heart was and the other in the beast’s neck. Glaurung roared with fury and turned his massive head in their direction as Melia took her shots. The bolts surged through the air, meeting their mark in the dragon’s belly. His pain echoed in his furious cry and his eyes blazed with red fire as he opened his mouth and he breathed out a terrible gust of heat.

"Oh hell!" Melia cried out as a blast of flame came rushing at them.

She felt Legolas’ arms around her waist, pulling her to the ground as the ball of fire came surging towards them. They both crashed heavily into the dirt as the fireball landed where they had been standing. There was little time to recover from the fall when another came in their direction. Once again, Legolas grabbed her and they were running for cover, barely avoiding the cascading waves of heat that not only set the ground on fire but also took any Orc or Uruk Hai in the vicinity with it.

"I think we upset it," Melia said breathing hard as they took refuge behind a column.

"Arrows do that," Legolas remarked wryly.

"Thank you," Melia swallowed thickly, seeing the flames burning in the place where they had been. "I do not think I would have moved fast enough to escape."

"Does that mean that you have finally decided to accept the aid of a Prince of Mirkwood?" He asked, smiling at her.

"I deserved that," she laughed. "If we survive this, I will make proper recompense. For now, did Arwen make it?"

Legolas stole a glance past the column and saw that Arwen was no longer cowering under the stone altar.

She, Frodo and Sam were hurrying away from Glaurung. The two hobbits were bravely fighting off the Orcs that were attempting to reach her. Legolas could not help but smile at how far they had come since setting off from Rivendell long ago. They were now warriors in their own right and were able to hold their own against the forces against them.

"Yes," he nodded. "But Glaurung’s attention does not linger too far from her," he replied seeing the dragon seeking out the Evenstar again. However, Glaurung’s next action struck cold fear into Legolas’ heart.

"ARAGORN!" He shouted.

* * *

Aragorn saw Arwen fleeing with Sam and Frodo and offered a silent thanks to Legolas and the Ranger Melia for providing her with a window of opportunity to escape. His own efforts to reach her had been hampered by the weight of all the Uruk Hai and the Orcs that were determined to slay a king on this day. It was a pleasure he was going to deny them as he fought valiantly the numbers rallied against him. Aware that he would become their target almost as soon as they had seen him, Aragorn had sense enough to distribute the forces at hand wisely. Legolas and Melia were more than capable of ending the ritual by dispatching those who would perform it. Gandalf was keeping Glaurung at bay while Sam and Frodo, two hobbits who knew more about stealthy advance then Aragorn could ever dream after walking into Mordor, had been sent after Arwen to free her. Meanwhile, the others took their swords and axes to the small army assembled before them.

Beside him, Gimli was swinging his mighty axe; each arch made by the thick blade was soon followed by a sharp and agonized scream indicating that the dwarf lord had made his mark. Gimli’s handling of the weapon was next to superb and he was able to defend himself against sword and fork. The orcs that he felled lay on the ground unmoving, their black blood running into the dirt around their ruined bodies. The dwarf’s size did little to hamper his ability to fight the formidable Uruk Haibecause the foul savages thirst for death was almost rivaled by the dwarves love of battle. In passion and skill they were both evenly matched even if in body they were not.

Merry and Pippin were showing the Orcs what they had learnt from Boromir’s teachings and the battles they had fought during the War of the Ring. Like Gimli, their size was not an obstacle and some times an advantage for they were able to surprise their opponents by how fiercely they fought. Pippin was the more frenzied of the two but his seemingly wild slashes had purpose and the dead beneath his feet was a testament to that. As usual, Merry ensured that Pippin’s back was safe during the battle as he fought off the creatures that might try to sneak up on his friend. The two made a formidable team as they launched their two pronged attack.

A Uruk Hai had slammed his thick skull against Aragorn’s forehead and sent the king stumbling backwards. The savage enemy came at him with a mace, attempting to crush his skull with a single blow. Aragorn slipped beyond his reach when he prepared to bring down the weapon upon the king. Aragorn managed to get behind him and was there to meet the Uruk Hai snarling in outrage at his escape, with the point of his blade when he sent it through the creature’s neck. The enemy dropped his weapon and clutched the sword, trying to drag Aragorn forward. Wasting no time, Aragorn slid the dagger in his other hand through the monster’s flesh and tore open his insides, ending any further effort on his part.

"ARAGORN!"

Aragorn spun around to the sound of Legolas’ terrified scream and saw the dragon Glaurung coming straight for him. The beast opened his mouth and spewed forth a wall of fire that the king barely avoided when he jumped clear. Hot flames consumed the Uruk Hai standing near him and screams of agony filled the air as well as the unpalatable stench of roasting flesh. Aragorn had just landed when he saw a shadow over him and realized that it was Glaurung’s tail about to smash down on him. The king scrambled to his feet and ran forward, trying to escape the reach when another ball of flame stopped him in his steps. Back tracking, he did not have time to react to the tail that came at him.

Arwen watched in horror as Estel was swept off his feet and flung half way across the floor. He landed badly and did not get up again as Glaurung approached him. Even Legolas and Melia’s efforts to hinder his progress towards the king did not effect the dragon since he was now walking on all fours, protecting his soft belly from attack. His open mouth was smoking and he was drawing breath for another fiery assault.

"You will do no more harm!" Gandalf hurried forward, standing before the dragon with his staff raised.

"And what will you do wizard?" Glaurung asked malevolently. "Will you stop me before I incinerate this mortal? Do you think that you are fast enough to prevent my breath of fire from consuming the King and turning him into ashes? Try me Istari and see which of us is wrong."

Gandalf faltered because it was true. He could fight this creature but could he act before Glaurung exhaled the breath waiting inside his body? He was not sure and he could not take the chance. Middle earth was now at peace because the races had rallied around the King of the Re-Unified Kingdom. Without Aragorn, Middle Earth would fall to chaos once more and might never recover.

"This cannot end the way you want," Gandalf said coldly.

"It will end the way I choose," Glaurung hissed, black smoke rising out of his nostrils and his mouth. "Give me the woman and I will leave him be."

"No," Gandalf retorted. "Never."

"Then watch the Re-Unified Kingdom die with Isildur’s heir and out of the chaos I will still give them a new king, a king who is not only of Isildur but also of Gil Galad."

"NO!" Arwen screamed from where she was. "YOU WILL NOT HARM ANYONE!"

Arwen saw her beloved Estel lying on the ground, blood running from his forehead and knew that he could be dead,  _today_. She had given up her immortality to be with him and though she accepted that those years would be only as long as a single mortal span of life, she was not prepared to lose him now. Not before any of the dreams that they had built in their years apart were given shape. This foul relic of the First Age was not going to destroy her and Estel the way it had destroyed Turin. She would not let it! No more was she going to stand by and let this creature take away all that she loved, beginning with her baby and now its father.

Arwen stepped forward, ignoring Eowyn’s cries to desist and placed herself before Aragorn and Glaurung. Her child, whether or not he knew it, would protect his parents even from the womb.

"This ends now Glaurung," Arwen glared at him with a stare that could have burned him dead if it was allowed. "You will cause no more mischief to any of my kin."

"Empty threats do not become you Evenstar," Glaurung declared shortly. "You will come with me or I will kill your precious King."

"You will kill no one." She said icily and closed her eyes before chanting words of her own, words as ancient as the world itself. "Not me, not my husband or my son!"

She was the Evenstar.

Her people had come from the sea and to the end of time, would return to it. She did not call upon the ancient gods very often because it was not the way of the elves to require the assistance of their deities to solve their troubles. However, this evil before her was one they knew well and she needed their aid as she had never needed it before. She closed her eyes and felt the sea that lay beyond the rock that surrounded the city of Nargothrond, she felt the ocean beyond it and allowed its water to nourish her. She called upon the Valar, specifically upon the Ocean Lord Ulmo. Once he had granted her the power to save Frodo Baggins when the Nazgul had pursued her.

She hoped he was listening to her now.

"What are you doing?" Glaurung demanded.

Arwen did not listen. She continued to invoke the ancient words of calling and only when the cavern began to shake, did they know what she was doing. The rock began to heave around her and the cracks miniscule when she had arrived began to widen, allowing more and more water to seep through.

"STOP THIS!" Glaurung bellowed.

"Kill her if you dare," Gandalf challenged the dragon viciously.

Behind him, Aragorn started to stir. The reverberations in the rock had traveled through his skin and roused him abruptly out of his dark sleep. His head throbbed as he sat up and whatever disorientation he felt was driven away when he saw his wife standing before Glaurung, uttering elvish words that were so old even he had difficult understanding them. However, their effect was obvious. Chunks of rock were breaking free through the cave, water was spilling from the ocean in columns of white froth. The Uruk Hai and the Orcs remaining were starting to see the danger and attempting to flee.

"Aragorn, the sword!" Eowyn hissed. The Lady of Ithilien had made her way to the king. "She has the Sword of Turin!"

Aragorn nodded, ignoring the pain to his limbs when he attempted to stand. Crushing it away mercilessly, he felt his body infused with rage and determination, propelled by a singular purpose as he stood up and ran towards Arwen. Glaurung was so busy spouting threats that he did not see Aragorn taking the blade out of her hands and throwing it like a spear at the ancient dragon. Glaurung attempted to escape the sword being hurled at him but it was too late. Turin’s sword, forged from the stuff of stars, sank deep into the creature’s belly. The dragon threw back his head and uttered a roar of agony, fire bellowing out of his mouth as he expressed his pain. Aragorn closed the distance between himself and Glaurung as Arwen continued to chant, oblivious to everything but what she needed to do.

The creature was gripped in pain and attempting to retreat when Aragorn skidded beneath its belly and retrieved the sword. He slashed again at Glaurung’s bleeding torso and rolled out from underneath the dragon as its weight forced it to the ground, avoiding being crushed. The king stood up and rounded the dragon’s body, standing before Glaurung’s massive head. The dragon was mustering all its strength to burn him when a phalanx of arrows and crossbow bolts struck his hide. While it did not penetrate, it served the purpose of allowing Aragorn to deliver the final blow. Not since the ring was taken from Sauron’s finger, had a blade been swung with such purpose. The sword slashed through Glaurung’s vulnerable throat, silencing the final cry that would have escaped the dragon in his last moments.

Glaurung’s collapse coincided with an explosion of sound all around them. The cavern began to crumble with the ocean pouring into the city. What Orcs and UrukHai were left were now fleeing in blind panic, trying to seek refuge in the high ground. Aragorn, still holding Turin’s sword in his hand, turned to his wife. He found her in Gandalf’s arm, having fainted from the invocation of such powerful forces.

"Arwen!" Aragorn hurried to her side.

"She is alright," Gandalf quickly explained as the king swept his wife into his arms. "The strain was too much for her."

"We have to get out of here!" Sam shouted, almost as panicked as the Orcs by the deluge that was now rising about them.

"Everyone!" Faramir shouted, leading the others towards the caverns leading back to the Blue Mountains. "Let’s go!"

As the Fellowship and the women made their way through the city, more and more of the cavern began to crumble. Great chunks of stone smashed against the ground until it was raining fragments of debris over their heads. Aragorn clung to Arwen, protecting them both with his body while Gandalf kept behind them, ensuring that the King and Queen were safe from any other threat. He watched briefly as the water swirled around Glaurung’s body, turning it a shade of crimson when it was stained by the dead beast’s blood. This time, there was no resurrection for the dragon. Glaurung’s days of mischief upon the world were finally done.

* * *

The company came to a pause when they were a good distance away from the city of Nargothrond. Gandalf had brought down a wall and sealed the rest of the caves to the rising tide behind them. None of the Uruk Hai or the Orcs had escaped the city. Their terror at avoiding the water had sent them scurrying for the heights of the city, instead of escaping the cavern.

Although it would be a few hours before they reached the outside world again, for the moment, the danger was passed and time could be afforded for all the company to catch their breaths and rejoice at being united and all still alive. They journeyed far, fighting terrible odds and even more terrible enemies to reach this point. Gandalf felt that they deserved a rest while they addressed their wounds and made themselves fit to continue their journey. Although none had been injured badly, there were enough wounds to ensure that some measure of healing was required for all members of the company.

"Undomiel," Aragorn whispered as he lay Arwen down on the ground beneath his cloak. She had not stirred since they departed Nargothrond and despite assurances from Gandalf that she was well, he had to see it for himself.

Arwen’s eyelids fluttered at the sound of her name and her sapphire eyes rested upon him as they opened. "Estel," she said softly, her hand resting upon his cheek. "You are alive."

"I would not leave you," he almost cried at the sound of her voice in his ears. Her hand drifted to his cheek and he held it there, his heart swelling from her touch. "I promised you a lifetime and that is what we will have."

"Our baby is safe," she swallowed, unrestrained with her tears. "I kept him safe for us Estel."

"I know," Aragorn took her into his arms and held her tight. "When he is born, I will tell him of how brave his mother was of what she did to ensure that he was born in the light. I love you Undomiel." He parted from her and their lips met in a soft and lingering kiss. "I have never loved you more then this moment."

And they held each other for a long time, forgetting the world and the others because for that one moment they were neither king or queen, elf or man, just two halves of the same heart finally reunited.


	10. The Changing World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay a bit of canon deviation here in regards to Frodo's departure from Middle earth. After everything they went through, I could never imagine Aragorn not being present to say his goodbyes.

 

When they emerged from the Blue Mountains, the mighty eagles were awaiting them as well as the horses that had borne Arwen, Eowyn and Melia throughout their journey northwards. While the eagles offered to bear the Ranger back to the house of Lord Cirdan at Mithlond, Melia had declined for she had no intention of allowing her trusted steed to make such a long journey back without her. Eowyn and Arwen felt similarly about their own horses, given to them by the Lord Celeborn but bowed to the wishes of their husbands who were not at all eager to let either woman out of their sights again. Thus Legolas offered to accompany the Ranger back to the Grey Havens despite the lady’s protestations that she was more than capable of handling herself. To ensure that both were still alive when they reached their destination, Gimli decided that it was probably best that he accompanied the two since there was only thing worse than travelling on the back of the horse and that was travelling upon the back of an eagle.

With the departure of the others, the three began their journey home with Legolas leading Gimli’s horse since it was somewhat larger than the pony he was forced to leave at the Shire. It was certainly more dignified than riding in Gandalf’s saddle pouch that was for certain. The Ranger said little as they travelled though Legolas’ reasons for this journey was inspiring Gimli’s amusement to no end despite the elf’s claims otherwise. It was clear that she was more than capable of taking care of herself and leading the horses back to Mithlond alone. However, Legolas insistence that it was a journey unsafe for a lady did not earn him her gratitude but rather her utmost consternation.

On the second night of their journey back to Mithlond, Gimli had become more than accustomed to hearing the two bicker about what thing or another. If he did not know better, he would think they were married already.

"I do not see why you insist on following me about everywhere, I have been taking care of myself quite a while before your vaunted presence in my life Prince of Mirkwood." Melia grumbled as she returned to the camp with firewood she had been gathering. For some odd reason, the elf had chosen to accompany her on this task and Melia was starting to think he did not believe her capable of doing anything for herself.

"I thought you might like the company," he remarked with just as much exasperation wondering if there was something wrong with this particular mortal that made her impossible to please.

"I am a Ranger!" She dropped the load of wood in her hands and growled. "I am accustomed to being on my own! In fact, I pride myself being able to endure being out there in the wilds alone. It is something of a job requirement."

"Fine," Legolas frowned walking towards Gimli who had been saddled with the duty of preparing the meal. "Obviously my concern was unfounded. I thought a lady was not safe travelling alone in the wilderness. It is hardly proper."

"Proper?" She glared at him, hands on her hips. If Legolas had known a little more about women, he would have seen that was a posture taken by the gender when preparing for battle. Gimli wondered if he ought to tell the elf that.

Then he came to his senses.

"I am a lady in every sense of the word, Prince of Mirkwood," Melia glowered imperiously, "I merely do not need the assistance of an elf who seems to think that without him holding their hand, every woman in Middle Earth would fall to ruin!"

"I have no intention of holding your hand, lady." Legolas retorted.

"If you do not play nice together, I shall have to put you in separate woods." Gimli quipped good-naturedly. Both of them ignored him.

"I’m going to check on Lomelindi," Melia replied sourly before storming off beyond the radiance of the campfire.

"Are you sure you do not require company?" Legolas called out after her, knowing the annoyance that would inspire but unable to help himself.

Gimli rolled his eyes in resignation, wondering how a three thousand year old elf could behave like a five year old.

Melia did not respond but Gimli was certain he heard teeth gnashing.

Legolas sniggered to himself as Gimli thrust a plate of food into the elf’s hands, shaking his head in something that was lost between of reproach and amusement.

"When I remarked that you were in sore need of female company, I had no idea that you were in this bad a state." Gimli remarked giving Legolas a look.

"Female company?" Legolas stared at him with incredulity. "You think I have feelings for that?" He gestured at the path taken by Melia.

"Obviously not," Gimli replied with a straight face. "That is why you insist of following her around like a puppy."

"I resent the implication," Legolas glared at the dwarf, who until a moment ago he thought was his friend. "The lady is resourceful to say the least but I am only keeping an eye on her as I would anyone, including you."

"Were you to keep an eye on me in that fashion Legolas, people would talk." Gimli teased.

"I am not having this discussion with you," the elf retorted turning to his meal.

"Just as matter of curiosity," Gimli asked, not about to let the subject go, at least without a few more digs at the elf’s expense. "How long has it been since you were with a woman?"

"I do not see what that has to do with anything," Legolas answered, suddenly uncomfortable.

"That long," Gimli muttered under his breath.

"She is something though isn’t she," the elf found himself admitting a moment later. His voice was soft, not at all filled with his earlier sarcasm. It was reflective and thoughtful.

Gimli cracked a little smile, "she is at that."

"Maybe I ought to see what’s keeping her," Legolas put down his place and stood up.

Gimli would have told him that was not entirely the best idea but the elf was already striding towards the horses. Instead, the dwarf lord enjoyed his meal and braced himself for the inevitable scream of exasperation that would tear through the night in a matter of seconds.

He did not have long to wait.

* * *

Someday people would speak of the grand age when elves walked the earth among men and magical creatures of wonder and the fantastic roamed the woods and the mountains. It was age of glory and of great battles, where kings were built and empires created, where fair maidens awaited their beloved return from war. It was an age that would be chronicled in the legends of time until the world itself turned no more and the stories like everything else would disappear. The Third Age had been the last age of such wonder, when the world that had been, faded into the horizon with fleets of ships sailing the straight road to lands that would never again exist in the sphere of man.

Aragorn knew that this day was coming and he had known it for a long time. However, no matter how much he had expected it, seeing the day finally arrive was a slash of pain against his heart. There was no reason for him to make the journey and with a wife who was heavily pregnant and awaiting him at home in the White City, it was not wise to leave her alone for too long. Yet this was a journey that he would have made no matter what the cost because before he had been king, he was Strider and too much of him was still Strider to forget the friends who made him what he was today.

The ship was almost fully loaded with passengers, Galadriel and Elrond had already embarked. It was almost impossible to say goodbye to Elrond and he understood why Arwen had chosen not to make the journey. At their last meeting father and daughter had said their farewells and Arwen had wept for a week after. Aragorn thought his heart would break hearing her weep but instead, he remained strong for her because she needed him to be. It was fortunate that her brothers, like Celeborn had chosen to stay in Middle Earth a little longer for it made the departure of her father not so hard to bear. However, he stood alone when he made he faced the lord of Imladris, a man who had been a friend to him since he had first arrived in Rivendell as a child. Elrond had shaped his life the way only a father could. He had taught Aragorn to cherish life, to fight for it when necessary and to accept the terrible burden of destiny no matter what the personal cost. It was difficult to face someone who had so much impact upon his life and know that they would again meet in this lifetime.

However, not even that parting was as hard as the one he was going to face now.

Gandalf the White stood at the gangplank and with him was Frodo. Frodo’s condition had not improved and had even deteriorated in recent months. When they had returned to Bag End after their quest to Nargothrond, the Ringbearer had fallen ill again and Aragorn saw for himself the extent of his sickness. Only then did he understand just how much Frodo had sacrificed by setting himself the task of destroying Sauron’s ring. As much as he hated to see the Ringbearer sailing away to the Undying Lands, he knew that if Frodo were to remain in Middle Earth, he would die far sooner than anyone who had endured what he had, should. Sometimes, to save the ones that were dearest to the heart, it was necessary to let them go.

The rest of the Fellowship had said their farewells and Aragorn arrived to see Merry hugging Frodo and wishing him well upon his journey. All fell silent at the arrival of the King.

"So Mr Underhill," Aragorn smiled. "You’re ready to begin your journey then?"

Frodo smiled and for a moment Aragorn spied the hobbit he had been before the Ring had changed him so. "I am, Strider."

"I will miss you Frodo," Aragorn placed a gentle hand upon the Halfling’s shoulder. "You showed me courage I never thought existed and took from me a burden that I cannot even begin to imagine. You gave me a choice to become more than I had ever dreamed and you will always be dear to me for that. Safe journey, Frodo Baggins. Find happiness for yourself."

Frodo blinked, trying to hide the emotion that gripped but with eyes like his, it was impossible. They were a mirror to his soul, a reflection of himself clearer than any Galadriel had in her possession. "You will be a great king Strider," Frodo swallowed, "but you will always be a better friend."

With that, the hobbit embraced him hard and parted from the king who sadness at his leaving was almost as deep but not quite as heart breaking as one other.

As Aragorn stepped aside to say goodbye to Gandalf, Frodo found himself facing the one person in this world that was harder to leave than any other. Sam stood before him, unashamed of his tears, his face etched in a mixture of acceptance but also of sorrow. They had seen things together that no other could ever understand and as a loyal friend to aid him on the quest, Frodo had found no greater than Samwise Gangee. Sam had seen him through the best and worst of times. He had been devoted before the quest, during the journey to Mordor and had helped him recover in the days after.

"Mister Frodo," Sam started to say but Frodo stilled him with his own words.

"There are no good-byes between us Sam," Frodo replied, his voice thick with emotion. "No words can say adequately how much you mean to me. This is not goodbye Sam for I do not believe we are destined never to meet again but until that day comes, know I carry you in my heart wherever I go."

"I know you have to go Mr Frodo," Sam swallowed thickly, unable to hold back his tears. "But I’m still going to miss you terribly."

With that the two hobbits embraced in a parting gesture of a friendship that would bind each other’s destinies for all time.

The Fellowship of the Ring stood together one last time before Gandalf and Frodo walked across gangway into the elven ship and an age drew to a close in Middle Earth that would never come again.

* * *

Aragorn paced.

He paced and ran into Legolas.

"Sorry," the king apologised blankly and resumed a little father away from Legolas who also did the same.

Faramir had contented to occupy his time with a deck of cards and realised that perhaps his mind was not on the game since he was playing himself and  _losing_. Gimli sat patiently at the window, watching the display between king and prince. Outside, it was raining heavily. The wind lashed at the palace and the rain filled the air with a fierce pitter-patter that only served to aggravate the tempers of all those present. Occasionally a bout of thunder would rumble through the air and the king would pause, curse the fact that he had been startled and resumed his pacing all over again.

This had been continuing for better part of six hours now and the entire palace was going through the time in something of a state of limbo. The anticipation in the air was so heavy that no one could think of anything else. Maids and servants spoke in whispers, soldiers at their posts glanced periodically at the section of the palace where the queen’s chambers were situated. Indeed, Gimli would not be surprised if the whole of Gondor were charged with the same anticipation that had gripped the occupants of this room.

"How long does it take?" Aragorn paused finally, unable to endure this endless waiting any further. Not even the battle of Pelennor was this hard!

"As long as it’s meant to," Gimli shrugged. Although he had never been in the position himself, dwarf men knew their place at times like this and it was as far away from the women as possible. All their presence served to do was to infuriate the women who would order them away until the event was over.

"How can you be so patient?" Faramir demanded, his own frustration expressed when he tossed the cards in the air and let them flutter around him aimlessly. So he was not the one in the center of this maelstrom but he was just as caught up by it as the rest of them. Faramir was more than aware that he could find himself in this position soon enough. Besides, the king was his friend, he could relate to Aragorn’s anxiety.

"I’m not the one whose wife is in labour," the dwarf lord grinned mischievously.

"That is it," Aragorn decided that he could not wait anymore. Hours he had waited, hours since Arwen was spirited away from him by midwives and Eowyn, he had no word from any of them except to see them scurrying out of her chambers at regular intervals. Why could he not be there for her? He was an experienced healer. "I cannot endure this torment any longer. I am going in there."

"No you’re not," Legolas grabbed his arm before Aragorn did anything he would regret. "If you go in there you will only get in their way."

"I do not care Legolas," Aragorn said promptly. "If there is any consolation to being king, it is not having to account for myself if I chose to enter my wife’s chambers at. Now unhand me." He demanded.

"Aragorn calm down," Faramir insisted, joining Legolas in trying to prevent the king from barging into the birthing chambers. "The midwives know what they’re doing. If you go in there you will only be hampering their efforts to help Arwen deliver the baby. Have patience."

"Do not tell me to have patience!" Aragorn hissed in exasperation and threw his hands up in defeat. "My wife is in there, screaming her head off as if she were being ripped apart. I would be there at her side to endure this agony."

"Yes," Legolas said slowly, "and while that is very noble and supportive of you, have you actually been around a woman in that state when she is in the process of delivering?"

"No," Aragorn stared at the elf wondering what he was getting at.

"What Legolas is trying to say Aragorn, is that she’ll likely take your head off for putting her in that agonizing position rather than be terribly happy to see you." Gimli pointed out.

The king was about to question this when suddenly a plaintive wail of a child filled the air. It was one short cry at first, sharp and piercing, then a longer one that tugged at the heart of all who heard it. The effect upon them all was immediate with wide grins and back slapping moving about the room in quick succession. When the door to the birthing chamber opened, Eowyn stepped out and the bundle she was carrying announced himself without any difficulty.

"Would you like to see your son?" Eowyn smiled radiantly.

Aragorn swallowed and stared at the babe in her arms. The newborn was all creases and pink flesh. His eyes were open but they were too new for him to see anything. Aragorn reached for his son and cradled the infant gently in his arms. Though it was impossible to tell who his son resembled more, his bow shaped mouth was definitely Arwen’s and as Aragorn looked at him, he felt as if his whole life had been in wait for this moment.

"He’s beautiful Aragorn," Eowyn commented as Faramir slipped his arm around his wife and they shared a little kiss as they watched the king regarding his son.

"Arwen?" Aragorn looked at the Lady of Ithilien.

"Is waiting for you both." Eowyn concluded before he could say anything else.

* * *

"He  _is_  beautiful," Aragorn agreed softly with Eowyn’s declaration when he stood at the doorway to Arwen’s chambers, his smile wide as he regarded his wife who looked terribly exhausted after her labors today. "Almost as beautiful as you."

Arwen turned to him and smiled wearily. There was still perspiration on her face and though she would always be radiant to him, it was clear that she had been pushed to the limits of her endurance and was in need of a good rest. Aragorn carried their son to her and rested him at the side of her bed before nestling the child in the crook of her arm. Arwen’s eyes filled with tears as she saw her babe again, the child that was born into the light with no trace of Glaurung’s evil spell or Melkor’s darkness upon his cherubic face.

"Oh Estel," she tried not to cry but the emotion of the moment made her weak and she could not help herself. "He is everything we dreamed he would be."

"Yes," Aragorn agreed and leaned over to plant a soft kiss upon her forehead. "He is you and I my love, the finest thing that we have ever done together."

"He will be the first," Arwen smiled happily, "I intend for him to have a house full of brothers and sisters."

"I do not care how many children we have Undomiel," Aragorn whispered as he held her in his arms as she held their child. "As long as I have them with you."

"And I with you," she replied before their lips met in a warm kiss.

When they parted, Aragorn stared at his son’s face and remarked, "so what will your name be young prince?"

"I was thinking Eldarion," Arwen suggested.

"Eldarion," Aragorn considered for a moment. "I like it. Eldarion Strider would be better." He gave her a mischievous look.

"Aragorn!" Arwen protested. "No! Eldarion will suffice. The child is going to have a difficult time remembering all  _your_  names without having a dozen of his own."

"Alright then," the king sighed wearily before promptly adding another suggestion. "What about  _Bill_?"

 

**THE END**

 


End file.
